


Memories bring back you

by Richie_Rich



Category: The Adventures of Puss in Boots (Cartoon)
Genre: Adventures, Conspiracy, F/M, Magic, Memories, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:15:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Richie_Rich/pseuds/Richie_Rich
Summary: Saving was always his duty. It was just who he was. His life as a hero began with saving someone and he always hoped it will end like this as well.And it did.But he had no idea. And oh, how much they wanted him to know.***Facing the end of the world Puss in Boots is forced to leave San Lorenzo and everyone he loves. He is not guaranteed with keeping his memory about them, but the citizens are and they are all delighted when they find out that he is with them again.But is he the same Puss they once knew?
Relationships: Puss in Boots/Dulcinea
Comments: 12
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue

“The only way to save the world is for you to go back in time and never come to San Lorenzo.”

And just like that, Dulcinea’s world shattered. Because how, how are they going to live without their great protector, without their hero, their friend.

How is she going to live without her _love_.

She looked over to Puss, but didn’t meet his eyes. Green emeralds were focused on his boots and his expression was hard to read. He frowned and listened closely to Sino's words, carefully analyzing each sentence.

“It is too dangerous for you to remember this place, so I will be forced to wipe it out of your memory. You won’t remember San Lorenzo, your adventures or any of your friends...”

Dulcinea reached out to him, but Puss squeezed his eyes shut and sharply turned the other way. He did not want her to see his tears.

“I’m so sorry Puss...” The mag continued. “If I had known it would lead to this, I would have done things differently.”

There was a short moment of silence, as if Puss was trying to gather his thoughts before he finally spoke.

“I understand the sacrifice.” he said in his raspy, deep but also choked voice. Dulcinea felt her own throat burn at the sound. He silently turned around and went down the stairs of the treasure house.

Dulcinea looked at his back, and noticed how tense his arms were. She started breathing faster. No. It couldn’t be like this, _no_. She did _not_ agree. It was too soon. They were given too little time together and she _did. not. agree._ She has already experienced one heartbreak, mere second ago, down there, next to the Obelisk. She thought she lost him, and was so, _so_ happy when he came back to her. And now he was going to be taken away _again_ and he won’t even remember her, because it’s too _dangerous_ or some fiddlefuf, and she didn’t even have time to tell him properly how she _loves_ him and-

“My friends!” Puss began, and now his voice sounded much more confident, more convincing, as if he was trying to tell something to _himself_. “I am being told, that I will not remember you, but...”

Words stuck in his throat as he gave all this people around him his most loving look, because that is what he felt for each one of them. He felt love even if he was afraid to admit it. He was afraid because love never gave him anything. Every time when he started to develop some deeper feelings for anyone, something happened, and Puss in Boots was always the one to be left hurt and bruised, with new scars that reminded him, that he was alone for a reason, that he should never get too attached to anyone or anything. He was sick of the feeling. He did not need that, he did not want that.

At least that was what he thought.

But now, when he was about to leave the town he had grown so much to care about, he felt as if his heart was being _ripped_ from his chest and he couldn’t focus on his own words, and it hurt to think that he won’t even know about them in a minute, it-

He sighed. He should have known it from the very beginning, that caring about others was one way to being left alone in the dark. And he knew it, _oh_ he did. As he recalled his first days in town, he remembered how he was acting. How cocky, overconfident and how big of a _jerk_ he was. Playing the tough guy was always his way of protecting himself. His mask, that was supposed to shelter him from a heartbreak. He did not expect anyone to even try, and take his mask off. But someone tried.

And she succeeded.

“But I know I will.” he continued, and felt even smaller than those silly forty centimeters under the gaze of the crowd listening to his words. “It may be that your faces and your names will be unknown to me,” He paused for a second, wiping the tears from Esme's face. “but I will always hold each and every one of you in my heart.”

No more words were needed. Esme was openly crying already, and Puss hugged her tightly, looking at the rest of the children with teary eyes. Vina was the first one to join the hug and after a second Kid Pickles did the same, stubbornly claiming that he was not crying and it was just the cucumber vinegar that got into his eyes. After they let go of each other, Puss looked at Toby, who was still standing like a rock, and didn’t dare to move in fear that if he did, his friend would be gone forever. The hero tried to put on a brave face and offered him a sad smile, but the only thing he got in return, was the piglet's tears.

“Hey, Toby, do not cry,” he tried to control the trembling in his voice and winked mischievously. “you know you will always be my best friend, right?”

“And you’ll be mine, Puss” said Toby, sniffing loudly.

He bent down to hug him and it was the first hug Toby gave Puss, that didn’t almost squeeze him to death, and for a second the ginger cat thought, that he never wanted him to let go.

After that he looked around one more time, with a heartbreaking smile, not wanting to say goodbye to everyone separately. He looked at señora Zapata, crying loudly on Pajuna’s shoulder. He thought he should not try to disturb her. Instead he shifted his gaze to his Scottish friend.

“You know, I...” he shrugged and laughed, scratching his neck a little sheepishly. “I would love to pay you for every drink I ever-”

“Don’t worry about it, laddie” the cow replied, a kind smile plastered on her face. “You were my best client.”

Puss smiled too but could not utter a word, so he just nodded sharply and turned around, climbing the stairs again and looking up at the town’s creator.

“I am ready.”

Dulcinea’s heart clenched. Was that it? Was that the way he wanted to end everything between them? Was he not even going to say goodbye to her? Was it again some sort of his stupid _code of honour_ thingy? She was feeling so helpless and so angry at the same time, because what was he _thinking_ , leaving her like that after everything without even saying a simple-

“Dulcinea?”

She looked up at him, and suddenly he was much closer than she thought he was. But his fur was not that bright orange and his eyes weren’t the same sort of green she learned to love. Realisation hit her hard.

He was _disappearing_.

 _Now_.

‘ _But..._ ’ she thought in horror. ‘ _I’m not ready! Please, Puss, not now, please, stay with me, please!_ ’

‘ _You can’t leave ME!_ ’

“The world will be a cold place without you in my life, Dulcinea,” he sighed, carefully taking her paws in his. “but at least there will be a world. You will go on. Without me.”

She tried to blink away her tears.

“I don’t know if I can...” she whispered, her throat was burning and her paws were trembling. He must have felt that, because he hold them tighter.

“You can.” he told her in the same way he always talked to her. “You can, and you must.”

The tears flowed down her face, as she looked up at him and it was exactly that reason, why Puss put their goodbye off so much. He could not bear to see her cry.

“Hey, _shhh_...” he whispered, drying her tears with his left paw, and she leaned into it, trying desperately to feel him close a little longer. “It is alright.”

Nothing was alright.

But she looked up at him anyway, and he leaned in and brushed his lips with hers, whispering in the most soothing, gentle way the words, that broke what was left of her heart completely.

“ _Te amo._ ”

And just like that, he dissolved into thin air.


	2. Have we met before?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a twist of fate that Puss finds himself at the Thieves' Market at the exactly same time as a beautiful cat lady. He immediately feels a connection with her, even though to him, she is only a stranger.
> 
> Or… is she?

Puss woke up.

He blinked a few times, trying to get used to the sunlight falling directly on his face and frowned, getting up on his elbows. His gaze shifted to the right, where he noticed a lovely black she-cat, who stretched with a quiet moan on the soft bedding. He wrinkled his nose as he tried to recall her name. _Bonita? Blanca?_ He shrugged, thinking it was definitely something like that and stood up, grunting softly.

He looked around for his hat and left boot, which he must have ditched somewhere on his way to bed yesterday. After quickly finding the missing parts of his outfit he put them on immediately. Green eyes fell on the bed again. They stayed in a cozy cantina, where the stay did not cost much, so Puss could allow himself a moment of forgetfulness in the arms of a beautiful coquette. The naked she-cat, covered only from the hips down, purred softly in her sleep. It made him sigh softly. He walked over to the bed and adjusted the thin blanket, covering his lover's shoulders. Then he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her temple.

“I will never forget you...” he purred. “Blanca.” he added after a moment's hesitation.

Suddenly she opened her eyes sluggishly. Her cute smirk faded and she glared at him reproachfully.

“ _Bianca_.” she hissed.

Puss just smiled awkwardly as he tweaked the feather on his hat.

“Yes.” he said chuckling. “Yes, of course. _Bianca_. Naturally. I will leave now.”

The female feline only rolled her eyes and smiled a little under her breath, blowing him a kiss goodbye, then closed her stunning blue eyes again, wanting to go back to her slumber.

He discreetly left the inn, settling the bill with the owner beforehand and making sure that no one would find out about his stay there. Leaving, he put on a black mask and headed towards the stables, wanting to return to his mission as soon as possible. He was on a search for something was actually in a bit of a hurry.

That _something_ was the hidden city of San Lorenzo.

Or more specifically the city’s treasure.

With all the magic gold and gems the legendary town was known for, he could easily pay off his debt in San Ricardo and finally go back home, to his old, peaceful life and his mama. To the place he valued most in the whole world, the place where he could again be a hero – something he always dreamed of being, and not an outlaw. Not a _thief_ and not an _outcast_. He spend half of his life searching for it, the only thing that could guarantee him a loot large enough to pay off the inhabitants of his hometown. And now he was almost completely sure, that he was close.

This burning desire to find the legendary town was the only thing that kept him alive for so many years in exile. He had no other purpose in life. He was just a simple, embittered male cat, who wanted nothing more, than to return home.

And take revenge.

His thoughts drifted to the beauty he had left in the cantina's room. The woman he would probably never see again in his life. Because Puss in Boots was never the type to have a healthy relationship with just one woman. Usually he charmed them with his pretty face, deep voice, beautiful eyes, and would leave them in bed in the morning, at most times forgetting their names after an hour, exactly as he did today. But he knew he wasn’t the man they wanted to spend the rest of their life with and _most definitely_ not the one with who they wanted to start a family. And every woman who had met him personally knew it too. He did not feel offended knowing that he was only a fling, a one night stand. He didn’t have anything he could offer anyone besides that. It wasn’t a secret that he was _really_ hard to get on with. He was an overconfident, cold-hearted _jerk_ , who thought only about himself. He has lived in this cruel world too long to continue believing in _love_ or some other crap like that. Some even tried to talk him out of it, but with little success.

He decided a long time ago that he would never marry and never have children. And when Puss in Boots swore something, he never, absolutely _never_ , broke his oath. If there was anything else in this world that he cared about besides his search, it was only his honour. He couldn't risk it being tarnished again.

As he thought of that, he slowly entered the little square in between some huge rocks. The place was called _Thieves Marked_ as he had time to find out and Puss supposed the name was reasonable, considering that almost everywhere in sight were tall, masked men, all in black. He jumped off his horse’s back and patted it lightly on the dark muzzle. Babieca – his faithful steed – accompanied him in his every adventure since he was cast out of his hometown. He looked around a little and ignoring the weird stares most of the people were giving him, moved on to a small bar nearby. The place stank, and Puss was most definitely _not_ buying any drink from this strange looking man. The only thing the outlaw was interested in getting was information.

“ _Hola amigo_ ,” he started, trying not to act suspicious. “I am looking for someone who might know anything about… treasures.”

The thief turned around and gave him a funny look.

“What kind of _treasures_?”

“Let us just say that” Puss dusted off his arm a little. “I am but a humble _gato_ in a need of gold. And I was wondering if any of you, gentlemen, would help me find a simple score?”

He looked from the corner of his eye at other thieves, who gathered around, probably thinking of robbing or killing him and receiving a bounty on his head. Looking around discreetly, he noticed a wanted poster with his image on it, and several arrows impaled under it. He sighed again, guessing exactly what was about to happen.

“Believe me...” the barman said, pulling out a knife. “The only thing you will find here today is trouble, Puss in the Boots.”

The ginger cat simply looked at his claws with the most bored expression.

“You do _not_ ” he said emphatically. “want to make the cat angry...”

“I think we do-”

Before he could finish, Puss flashed out his sword and knocked out two bandits standing the closest. With a speed of a lightning he cut open the masks of other two thieves, and before anyone could move, he was already behind the barman, holding his sword to his throat.

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“You made the cat angry. And the kitty really does not like to be _angry_.”

He pressed the blade harder to the thief’s throat.

The rest of them looked at Puss with fear, until one of them spoke up.

“Señor Puss,” he swallowed. “there’s no need for violence. We’re so sorry we disturbed you, we were just trying to… simply...”

He looked at his companions for help, but none of them said anything. He hesitantly turned to Puss again.

“If you’re looking for gold, I saw some pretty lady down there, she won’t be a challenge, you could rob her blind-”

“I do _not_ ” Puss stated loudly. “steal from innocent. Let alone a lady.”

He thought for a moment. In fact, this was not such a bad idea. Those idiots knew nothing about any magic treasure, of that he was sure, because if they _did_ , they wouldn’t be here, but looking for it. And Puss did not need any competition, so it was better not to make them aware of its existence. That mentioned lady might know _something_ , since she was there _alone_ , and there was no town or any other place in sight for her to go. Or even if she didn’t, he could easily sneak a cold coin or two from her in exchange for helping her with something.

“But... I am tired of your company. I go!”

After those words he took his sword from the poor guy’s throat and disappeared quicker than anyone even managed to say the word ‘ _ginger_ ’.

***

It was hard for everyone after Puss disappeared.

For solid weeks the town was in mourning, as if their great hero died, even though they knew that he was alive and in perfect health – just as the first day they met him. But the thought of never seeing him again was awful.

The children were crushed. Ever since that tragic night they didn’t want to even look at any ball or play any game, that they associated Puss with. And if that wasn't enough, Cleevil's absence was also painful for everyone. Especially Toby and Vina, who stopped asking everyone questions. To make matters worse, Toby even stopped eating for a few days. Esme cried all the time. Kid Pickles holed up in his room and only grunted at anyone who tried to speak to him. Señora Zapata was in no better state, even though she tried to pretended to be indifferent. It was as if the town collapsed in some dark, cold place, and no one knew any way out of it, so they just stayed in that condition, waiting patiently for the pain to go away, even if the chances were close to zero.

But the person they were most worried for, was Dulcinea.

Oh, the poor girl was _devastated_.

She locked herself in her room, not accepting any food or any form of emotional support. She couldn’t come to terms with the thought, that if she left her four walls, she wouldn’t find Puss in Boots anywhere. Her Puss in Boots. Because he was _hers_. Because he told her he loved her, with his eyes full with tears and then he disappeared, and she couldn't stop thinking about how little time they actually spend together just… _being_ together as she wanted them to be.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, when she thought that he _didn’t even know who she was_. He didn’t remember that he loved her, and didn’t know that she loved him just as much, if not even more. Dulcinea was never the jealous type. If they had broken up one day of his own free will, she would let him go, because she’d want nothing more, than for him to be happy. But they didn't break up with each other. They didn't want it. Now, the only thing she felt was anger, when she imagined some other woman touching him, and telling him that she loves him, and kissing him, and _oh God, no_ … Because he was… He didn’t know, but… _They_ …

She loved him too much for her own good.

But how could she not fall in love with someone so selfless, so honorable, so humble and so charming. How could she not fall in love if she saw him putting her happiness in front of his own, protecting and caring for her in a way no one ever did before.

She knew it was selfish, but she didn't care.

She wanted him for herself again.

Because on his first visit in San Lorenzo he stole a golden coin – a reason for him to stay. But on his last…

He stole her heart. And had no intentions of giving it back.

A knock on the door woke her from her thoughts. She rose from the window sill on which she was sitting and from which she looked out the window. She observed the clouds and the wonderful azure sky, listened to the buzzing on the market square and the children's laughter, imagining that everything was as it used to be and that nothing had changed. Imagining that the night she lost her friend had not happened. But it did and a lot has changed.

A year passed.

The door opened with a slight creak, and the orphanage's caretaker appeared with her usual scowl on her face.

“I need you to go to the Thieves' Market.” she announced without further ado, looking skeptically around the slightly messy room.

Dulcinea closed her eyes and muttered softly under her breath ‘ _Fiddlefuff…_ ’ as she knew where this conversation was going.

“I’m sorry señora, but I thought I made it clear that-”

“I'm not going to listen to your excuses, young lady.” the woman said sharply, crossing her arms over her chest. “You haven't left the town in almost a year. You have to stop with this absurd behavior and pull yourself together at once.” she stated firmly, but her gaze softened nevertheless as she saw the expression on the feline's face, who put her ears back and looked somewhere to the side. Zapata knew that look, because she knew like no one else what it was like to be heartbroken. But she was aware that there was nothing she could do about it, and time really _did_ heal all the wounds.

She scanned the room again and sighed as she said a little quieter.

“I don't want to be the one telling you this, Dulcinea, but...” she paused for a second. “He’s not coming back. Each one of us left the town and no one even heard a word about him. You must stop being constantly afraid that you will meet him as soon as you leave the gate. Stop thinking about him, just like he does not-”

“What do you need from the market?”

Surprised, Zapata looked up and turned to see Dulcinea ready to leave, a purse of money in her left hand.

“...Silk.” she said thoughtlessly. 

Dulcinea widened her eyes in surprise, but said nothing, just left the orphanage at once.

***

Puss was rather familiar with places like the Market. It may not have been something to be proud of, but he was no stranger to various dives and brothels. He knew perfectly well how and how not to act in similar spots. The first rule was not to draw attention to himself, which at first was quite difficult, considering he was a wanted outcast and as if that was not enough – a _talking cat_ wearing _boots_. But he quickly learned to use his height and dexterity to disappear from sight in seconds. Fortunately for him, talking animals and cats wearing shoes became more common around the world while he traveled the continent, so he wasn't _that_ obvious anymore. Nevertheless, the world still was full of thieves and criminals, ready to cut off his head for a purse stuffed with gold. So he began to protect his identity. He wore a black cape and a mask so that the colour of his fur would remain unknown as long as possible. He also would not start a conversation with anyone with whom he had no specific business. He chose his lovers carefully, never told them too much about himself, and never stayed in one place for more than a day or two.

That's why he was at first a bit sceptical about the idea that involved talking to a young lady, who supposedly shopped at the market. Still, he went looking for her. Of course, he tried to look as nonchalant and indifferent as possible during the search. He was casually looking at swords at one of the stands, when from the corner of his eye he saw the aforementioned girl.

And she was... Beautiful. Simply _gorgeous_. Until now, he had thought that the girl he had spent last night with was wonderful, but _now_ he realized that he had really found a rare diamond, that was every inch an ideal. Puss wondered for a moment whether she was real, but seeing the thieves around, also looking in her direction, assured him that she was not just a figment of his imagination. The snow-white fur and those large azure eyes, glistening like jewels, immediately caught his attention. She moved with grace and pride, the soft click of her heels almost like music to his ears. Her purple dress rippled with every step and framed her feminine curves perfectly.

Puss had never met someone like this before. His whiskers straightened and his heart began to beat faster, so he placed his hand hesitantly against his chest, as if to calm it. He didn't know what triggered this behaviour in him. Even if the cat lady _was_ extremely charming, no woman had elicited such a reaction in him before. He shook his head, getting rid of the unnecessary thoughts, and followed her at a safe distance, so that she couldn't see him. Usually, he didn't care much about such formalities, but this time he really wanted to know her name.

***

Dulcinea was terrified. Not because of the thieves, she remembered perfectly well what Puss had taught her during few fencing lessons he had given her, but... Exactly. _Puss_.

She tried very hard not to think about the fact, that she was in the exact same place, on the exact same day of the year, looking for the exact same thing like when they first met. She looked around uncertainly and sighed softly, annoyed with herself. She should have known by now where the silk stall was, but she hasn't been to the market for a _year_ , and since then, apparently, a lot has changed. She knew that it was a bad idea to ask any of the bandits for directions, but she was tired, and it seemed to her that she had literally walked around the whole market and that there was _no silk_ _anywhere_. But she was also aware that she could not return to the town empty-handed, because señora Zapata would have assumed that she had not gone to the market at all, and Dulcinea very much wanted to prove something to her... And maybe a little to herself.

Suddenly she heard some shuffling behind her. She looked around gently, but the only thing she noticed was one of the thieves carrying a chest. She frowned and, looking down at her shoes, continued walking. She felt herself bumping into something so she looked up to see a masked man above her, arms crossed over his chest, staring at her slyly. She felt a strange déjà vu.

“I'm sorry, miss.” he said, and Dulcinea briefly looked at the knife in his belt. She swallowed, gripping the pouch tighter in her hand.

“It’s quite alright.” she replied shortly, intending to bypass him. “Excuse me...”

But he accosted her again, cutting her way off with a sword.

“Where are you going?” he asked sarcastically. “I think you should pay me for running into me.”

“I don't think that's necessary.” she evaporated, trying to walk away again, but the thug grabbed her arm.

“But _I_ think it is.” he growled. “Your purse, please.”

She was about to break free from his hold and grab a sword lying on a counter at a nearby booth, but someone else had already pushed the thief away from her. The masked warrior got into a short fight with the criminal and quickly managed to beat him, making him ran away cowardly. At first Dulcinea looked at her saviour in shock, but then her gaze shifted a little lower.

Only one person wore such boots.

He turned towards her and she could see emerald eyes from under his hat, looking at her exactly as they did that time. She began to breathe faster and felt her legs buckle under her. Surely she would have had a close encounter with the ground, had it not been for the arms of the outlaw, who ran to her as she began to wobble and caught her before she could topple over.

“It is alright señorita, breathe, I will not let them hurt you.” he purred reassuringly. “It is over now.”

Dulcinea squeezed her eyes shut. Of _course_ it was him, she could no longer delude herself. The contractionless sentences and the deep, hoarse voice, she would recognize them everywhere. And now, when she heard him again, when she felt his arms around her again, and when he looked down at her again, the sunlight framing him like a halo, she thought she was dreaming (because yes, she had been in this situation more than once in her dreams, but this time it was _real_ , and she didn't know whether she should be happy or anxious.). She noticed that she had been staring at him for a few seconds too long without saying a word, so she put her hand on his shoulder and let him help her up, putting her other hand to her forehead, pretending to still feel a little unwell.

“I'm so sorry, señor, it’s just the heat and those bandits...” she broke off, deciding to pretend to be one of those _damsels in distress_. She stubbornly tried not to meet his eyes.

“Understandable. Nothing to worry about, my lady. Please let me…” he broke off suddenly, looking at her carefully. She cringed under his piercing gaze and started breathing faster, trying to think about some way out of the horrible situation in which she found herself.

He noticed her embarrassment and immediately moved away from her to a safe distance. Bowing his head, he respectfully lowered his hat.

“I am… sorry, señorita, it is just… I thought...” he sighed slightly and looked into her eyes again. “Have we met before?”

Dulcinea couldn't breathe.

She swallowed hard, staring into those familiar green eyes, and had to use all of her self-control not to just throw herself at him and kiss him with all her might. Various emotions tugged at her at once. She wanted to scream. On the one hand, she wanted to shout in his face how much she hates him for leaving her, and on the other, how much she loves him and how she values his honour and willingness to sacrifice.

She took a deep breath through her nose and straightened, suppressing all these reactions within herself, and looked at him, tilting her head slightly.

“No.” she said without the slightest hesitation, even if it hurt her. “No, I don’t believe we had. I would certainly remember you, señor.”

Puss frowned as if he didn't quite believe her, but quickly dismissed the sour face and smiled charmingly.

“Yes, well, I believe you are right.” he admitted, looking at her with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “I would probably remember meeting such lovely lady.”

Dulcinea smiled fondly at him, trying very hard not to cry. Until now, she hadn't even realized how much she missed his compliments and charms.

He smiled a tender smile and placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her towards what was most likely a cloth stand.

“Here, let me help you find the silk you desire.” he offered.

Dulcinea felt like in a dream. But it was not one, this was reality. She could feel his hand against her body and the warmth emanating from him. She could smell the smoke and fire – the scent that he always emanated, but it all felt so unreal to her that she pinched herself discreetly several times. She couldn't believe he was there again. She had missed him for so long and had already lost hope that they would meet again one day, and now he just... appeared in her way! She wanted to squeal with happiness. Pretending to be scared of the thieves, she moved a little closer to him and smiled inwardly as she felt his gentle grip tighten around her waist.

They found the silk she asked for, and just like before, she got a full box for only one coin. They didn't talk much until they finally reached her carriage, in which Puss had put her purchases. He had offered to carry them for her, like a real gentleman he was.

“I want to thank you _so much_ for your help!” she said as he walked over to her after putting all the boxes in the carriage. Not knowing exactly what she wanted to check, she reached into her purse. “Here, I will gladly-”

Puss quickly grabbed her hand, in which she was holding two golden ducats, and gently pulled it away from him.

“Oh, no no, I can accept no payment.” he said with an endearing smile. “It is nothing, really. I am glad that I could help you, miss...”

“Dulcinea.”

Puss raised his eyebrows and smiled charmingly.

“ _Sweetheart_.” he said. “I should have known. Just perfect. A lovely name for a lovely lady.”

She chuckled as she felt herself blush under her fur. She clasped her hands behind her back, peering at him through her lashes. She really missed their little banter. She also had no idea that she could flirt and was very surprised to find out that was exactly what she was doing.

“And what might your name be? Or should I just call you my saviour?”

She raised her eyebrows as she noticed his smirk fade. He looked away as if hesitating. She remembered clearly their first meeting and how he _bragged_ about his name and was openly calling himself a legend. So why he refused to introduce himself to her, and what was the thing with the mask? She remembered that he knew very well how handsome he was. So what was he trying to hide now?

“This is probably the best option.” he chuckled but Dulcinea was not laughing. She raised a hand to his face.

“Can I at least see the face of my hero then?” she asked, but he quickly pulled away.

“I am sorry señorita, but it is really, very really important to me, that my identity will remain a secret.” he said, carefully taking her outstretched hand and kissing the top of it. Without releasing her hand, he led her to the front of the carriage and helped her onto it. “Please, let me escort you to-”

“No, thank you.” she cut him off firmly. He widened his eyes in surprise. Dulcinea shrugged, staring innocently down at him. “If you don't tell me who you are, it would be foolish to bring you to my house, don't you think? Please don't follow me, I can take care myself, I came here alone so I can go back alone as well. Goodbye, señor saviour. But thank you very much for your help again.”

She pulled on the reins and her horse started moving.

She knew it was irresponsible and that she shouldn't even talk to him in the first place, but she couldn't resist the temptation. Sino had made it clear to everyone that his presence in San Lorenzo was dangerous. She couldn't lead him there again. She had to come up with something quickly. And she remembered that Puss has always had a hard time listening to others, but every time _she_ spoke to him, he paid a lot of attention to her words. He had never been able to oppose her when she spoke firmly and directly to him, so she decided that he would not do it this time either.

At least that was what she wanted to believe.

Puss stood there speechless.

This woman had just firmly stated that she did not want his help nor did she want his company, and she said it all in a voice so _sweet_ and _gentle_ that Puss hadn't even thought to cleverly answer anything before she left. He smiled to himself. This _Dulcinea_ was... quite fascinating and Puss felt a certain connection with her. He decided that stopping nearby wouldn't slow down his search for the treasure, and he forgot to ask her if she knew anything about it, so he had to wait for their another meeting anyway... Thinking about it, he watched as her carriage pulled away, and wondered how it could be, that her name was right away imprinted on his memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter, Puss and Dulcinea's first meeting. Well, not really. But I hope you liked it anyway!


	3. "San Lorenzo’s treasure."

If Dulcinea was breathing, she certainly had no idea she did. As soon as she was far enough from the Thieves' Market and lost sight of Puss, she tugged on the reins and her mare ran straight towards the hill where the hidden city was located. The horse was panting and huffing when they reached the latent gate, definitely unhappy to be rushed, as it had to pull the huge carriage at the same time. But Dulcinea was in no better state. Her hands were shaking like jelly, and out of stress, she mistook the formula for entering the town at least three times. When she, despite the difficulties, _finally_ managed to cross the magical threshold, she felt immense relief. She took a deep breath several times before deciding to enter the town further. She looked back and for a moment just stared at the sunlight-lit place that acted as an enchanted passage.

She looked as if expecting the ginger hero to slip through them in a moment, exactly as she had seen a long time ago. However, nothing of the sort happened and Dulcinea found herself disappointed. She dismissed the thought immediately.

 _That's good_ , she thought. Everything went according to her plan. Puss did not follow her, he will not enter the city, the world will not end, they will never meet again.

She looked down in pain, realizing that it had to be that way and wishing that she had stayed with him at the market a little longer.

But she had to quickly put her sorrows and regrets aside and put on a happy face, as Toby ran to her carriage, making that distinctive, piggy sound.

“Dulcinea! You’re here! You have to help me! Kid Pickles is trying to tell me unicorns don't exist!” he called out dramatically, and looked reproachfully at the boy with the jar of pickles under his arm, who was also walking nonchalantly to the carriage.

“Yeah, ‘cause they don’t!” he said, nibbling on a pickle in his hand. “Deal with it, pig.”

Toby crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him angrily, and Dulcinea pressed a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh at their little quarrel. These children were always able to make her laugh and dispel her sorrows.

“ _Ohhh_ , so you _do_ believe in monsters, mermaids, dragons and other magical creatures,” the piglet said doubtfully. “but not in unicorns? Come on! You just want to make me angry.”

Kid Pickles sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Um, yeah? ‘cause we’ve _seen_ them? Listen, kid, got a question for ya...” he said in bored manner. “Have you _ever,_ I mean _EVER_ actually _seen_ any unicorn?”

Toby fell silent for a few seconds.

“No...” he finally replied hesitantly, but then smiled as if he had come up with a non-contradictory argument. “But Puss told me all about them! After all, he was an expert in unicorn training! Apparently he even-”

Piglet suddenly paused as if he'd found himself saying something he shouldn't have said. Dulcinea couldn't see his expression because he had his back to her, but she noticed Kid Pickles' gaze lingering at her nervously for a few seconds, but the boy immediately shifted his eyes elsewhere, noticing that she was staring at him.

“Hey, pig…!” he whispered in his usual raspy voice. “We don’t use _mister P’s_ name around here...”

Dulcinea tried not to show it, but her heart ached at the words. So that's why she had never heard anyone in town mention Puss. Other residents had already come to terms with his loss and remembered him fondly, when she... Apparently everyone around still thought that she would cry at even a small mention of their former hero.

She really should have left her room sooner.

She shook her head, wanting to change the topic quickly.

“Boys, where's señora Zapata? She wanted me to buy her some silk.” she said, shaking her head gently behind her, toward the box stuffed to the brim with expensive fabric.

“Umm...” Kid Pickles stuttered. “I think she’s at the orphanage. Ya know. Dinner and stuff...” he stammered out and quickly tugged Toby's arm, and a second later they were both out of sight.

She sighed again and slowly drove closer to the door of the orphanage. As she descended from the carriage, Zapata emerged from the door of the shoe-looking building, wiping her hands on a small apron that was tied around her waist. Dulcinea, trying to avoid her eyes, hurried to the back of the carriage, pretending to be arranging her purchases. The woman put her hands on her hips and looked closely at her tail.

“Anything strange happened at the market?” she asked.

The she-cat straightened up and looked at her right paw. It was probably just her imagination, but she could have _sworn,_ she still felt the soft touch of his lips against it and couldn't help a tender smile as she remembered him looking at her with those laughing green eyes.

“No.” Dulcinea replied, smiling politely at her, but not quite meeting her eyes. “No, not at all.”

***

His ears rose and turned when he heard a soft, almost inaudible rustling behind him. His horse whinnied uneasily, pausing at his rider's command, and also began to look sideways for danger. Puss gently turned his head as he listened. His eyes, green as poison, glowed in the darkness of the night, reflecting the moonlight. He patted his steed on the snow-white neck.

“It is alright, Babieca, come on,” he purred reassuringly. “I am here, walk.”

The stallion shook his head, but obediently began to step back into the stone desert. All around you could hear only the rustle of sand blown away by the wind and the soft tapping of Babieca's hooves. The night was calm and beautiful. There were thousands of stars in the sky, arranged in various constellations and intricate patterns. Puss took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool desert air. This undisturbed peace, however, was interrupted in an instant, when Puss' pupils narrowed into thin lines, and he pulled a sword from his belt. Turning with admirable dexterity, he jumped off Babieca's back, then grabbed the neck of a spy following him for some time and pinning him to the ground, put the sword to his throat.

The man grinned predatory and laughed in a rough, unpleasant voice, looking at the tomcat from under his thin, black eyebrows.

“Did you hear me?”

Puss looked at him in disgust and took the blade away from his larynx, dropping his head at the same time, making it hit the ground.

“Only for an hour.” he replied, snorting and glancing intently at his sword before tucking it under his belt. He patted Babieca lightly on the muzzle, when he ran up to him to see if his rider and friend was alright, casting a hateful glance at the man in the red coat, trying to get up from the stones on which he was lying. “What do you want, Warlock?” asked Puss, turning to face him.

The aforementioned _Warlock_ finally managed to stand on his feet and was now brushing off the sand and dust. Puss rolled his eyes, seeing how long it took him to get tidy.

“I hate it when you do that. You really don't realize how much these clothes cost, do you?” he asked ironically, looking at the ginger exile out of the corner of his eye.

"If you do, then stop trying to scare me. And I do not really care." Puss shrugged, taking off his glove so he could take a look at his claws. "And neither shuold you. Buying expensive clothes is a waste of money."

The man looked at him annoyed.

"Well, _excuse me,_ for trying to look like a civilized man with a sense of _style_." he huffed and then muttered at the end. "At least _one_ of us does... You know, not everyone is a damned _cat_ , that can walk around _naked_."

Puss ignored his last sentence, as he wrinkled his nose at some strange, darker stains on his coat. He was rather familiar with such views, so he immediately asked:

“Is that blood?”

Warlock froze for a second.

“No?”

“That is not a question you are supposed to answer with another question.” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at him with pity.

“And as always, you anticipate the worst straight away. _Relax_ , kitty, I didn't kill anyone.” he chuckled and looked at him predatory, smiling slyly. “What is it? Are you afraid of me, _Puss in Boots?_ ”

“I have nightmares about puppies that are scarier than you.” Puss said without even twitching an eyelid. “I am not afraid of anything.”

The man laughed out loud, which sounded somewhat insane. He laughed like that for good few seconds, until suddenly he stopped and smiled, as if he didn't believe him.

“You only act like you’re fearless, but you’re not.”

Puss raised his eyebrows and snorted softly under his breath, turning back to Babieca.

“Guess you would know best, right?”

The silence around them again flooded with his artificial, creepy laughter.

“Sly kitty.”

Puss was really starting to get irritated. He wanted to spend as little time as possible in the company of his partner, but as always, he had to make things difficult.

“Do _not_ ” he growled, gritting his teeth. “call me kitty.”

“ _Aggressive_ kitty. Where did you get that from? Listen, maybe you should _relax_ , take a deep breath-”

Puss turned sharply towards him, taking off his hat and mask. The fur on his head was ruffled because of it, and the desert chill immediately hit his sensitive cat ears, but he didn't even care.

“I swear, Warlock, one more word and I will-”

“Kill me?” he cut him off with a sadistic smile, making Puss hide his claws. “But if you did, who else would be helping you with...” he turned and opened the flaps of his coat. Puss saw him reach for something with one hand and instinctively placed his paw on the hilt of the sword, his brow furrowed. Warlock smiled madly again, looking at him over his shoulder. “...this?”

He tossed a large sack in his direction, which landed centrally in front of his boots.

Puss looked at him with narrowed eyes, then looked back at the satchel at his feet. In the blink of an eye he pulled out his sword and cut the bag to the accompaniment of a whistle of air and the sound of metal rubbing against metal.

The tall man jumped back, placing his hand on his heart and laughing like a madman.

“Real cat _p_ _urr_ _recision,_ am I right?!”

However, the redhead did not pay attention to him. He placed the sword on his belt and knelt on one knee, taking in his hand and carefully examining one of golden coins that had spilled around.

When Puss looked up at the familiar thief, he was just finishing laughing at his own joke and wiping his tears of amusement with a white glove.

“Oh, oh my God, oh my...” he chuckled again and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m good. And what’s up with you, kitty-cat? What’s with the sour face? Are you having a _hissy fit_ again? Got it? Nevermind, I have a better one-”

“Is that all?” asked Puss, standing up but still studying the gold at his feet thoughtfully.

Warlock looked at him as if he had grown a second head, which in addition severely offended his style and choice of clothing.

“ _All_?” he repeated angrily, as if unable to believe that such a question had left Puss' lips. He folded his arms over his chest, looking genuinely offended. “You wanted more, huh? You can't even imagine what I had to do to get that money, and you still don't have enough? Perhaps _you_ should bring me some of the loot for a change? Because so far, _I'm_ putting my skin at risk for both of us and if it continues...”

The outlaw bit his lip and raised his paws above his head in surrender.

“Okay, alright, do not be so nervous. It is just that it all goes very slowly... But not to worry, you will get your share, trust me. This time I am keeping an eye on a big leap.”

Warlock raised his eyebrows.

“How big?”

“San Lorenzo’s treasure.”

Warlock smirked, but looked at him with some appreciation.

“I thought you said that I was _raving_ when I came up with the idea.”

“I did.” Puss admitted. “But it is not entirely stupid. I believe it can exist. But we need to find out where.”

The thief clapped his hands, looking at Puss with mock tenderness.

“Congratulations! You finally came to your senses and listened to the old Warlock! I have to write it down on the calendar...”

Puss rolled his eyes and rubbed his face with his paw, then grabbed the bridge of his nose. Because _really_ , this man was getting on his nerves with every second.

“Do not get used to it. I am desperate, not _stupid_.” he ignored the man's indignant sigh and jumped on Babieca's back, having previously tied the bag of gold and throwing it over his shoulder. “Off I go. And this town better really have a treasury full of gold, because if not, you will see what an ‘ _aggressive kitty’_ _really_ looks like.”

Warlock chuckled again as Puss put on his mask and tried his best not to punch him in the face.

“Are you threatening me, Puss in Boots?”

He rode a little closer and stood on his steed's back, so _he_ could now look down at his companion.

“I warn you. It is not a threat. Oh, and if you use my name aloud again, I will tear your tongue through your teeth.”

Warlock looked at him with a slight fear, which he tried hard to hide under another nasty smirk.

“Now _that_ was a threat. Do you see the difference?”

“You don’t have to worry.” the man replied after a few seconds of silence as they both looked into each other's eyes as if checking which one would crumble first. “We fare so that you will pay off San Ricardo three times. _This, I swear._ ” he added at the end, openly provoking him, but Puss wasn't stupid enough to get caught up in his game.

He smiled slyly and stepped back a little, bowing and extending his hand in front of him. Puss gave him one last distrustful look.

“I will hold you to it.” he said and suddenly Warlock looked up at the tomcat with a keen glance. All his slightly psychopathic cheerfulness was replaced by seriousness and cruel certainty. His smile looked exactly the same as before, but his eyes showed a terrifying change in his behaviour.

“I know you will. And _I_ know that _Puss in Boots_ is nothing if not a man of his word…”

Puss snarled at him and, hitting Babieca's side harder than necessary, rode back towards the Thieves' Market, with only one thought in his head.

Where _the hell_ was this town?

***

Dulcinea had been up practically all night, unable to forget the sight of Puss in Boots. She kept thinking about how she had managed to appear at the Thieves' Market at exactly the same time as he did. After all, the chances of that were almost nil. When Sino made Puss travel back in time that night, he said he had sent him somewhere far away to France, where he had apparently been staying before returning to Spain and finding their town.

She hadn’t told anyone that she had met him, not even Pajuna, who was the most sensible person she knew, because she knew _exactly_ what the cow would say. She would tell her to stay away from him, pour her milk, and talk about how she knew what it was like to suffer from a broken heart and other similar fiddlefuff. Dulcinea didn't want to hear it, even if a little voice in her head (disturbingly similar to señora Zapata) was telling her she should.

She mocked herself mentally. Until a few days ago, she wouldn’t have left her room, let alone outside the city gates for all the treasures of the world, and now she was waiting impatiently for the next moment when she could slip out to the Market. Dulcinea has always been recognized by everyone as that sane and intelligent girl, but as her thoughts wandered to the ginger hero, all her common sense seemed to shut down. She had lost him once, and now, when she could be with him again, would she miss such a chance? Never. She had been fighting with herself for literally all night, wondering if she should just forget about him once and for all and let him go, but each time she remembered him telling her how much he _loved_ her, she felt sadness and helplessness in her heart. She felt as if she was hurting him by leaving him alone.

That is why she made a decision ( _not a very wise one_ – as that annoying voice told her) that she would go to the Market again and if she did not meet him – she would stop thinking about him forever.

She didn't fall asleep until morning, ignoring that strange feeling of fear that lightly caressed her shoulders.

***

The morning was nice and brisk. The birds sang cheerfully outside the window, savouring the sun's rays that enveloped the people of San Lorenzo, as they left their homes and yawned, making their way to the canteen for breakfast.

Pajuna, however, was not one of the sleepy inhabitants. She got up at dawn to open the inn and prepare a meal for her neighbours. She was quick to polish glasses, pour milk and fry paella. Around eight o'clock, a crowd of hungry San Lorenzans began to pour into the bar.

The cow handed a plate of fried egg to the mayor and began to polish the glass from which Puss used to drink his morning _leche_ , waiting for the sound of his huge boots hitting the wooden floor upstairs. She poured him his usual amount of milk, frowning and wondering why he hadn't slid down the stair railing yet, showing off his skills, and sat down in his usual spot at the bar, smiling endearingly and shining white teeth at her.

Suddenly she widened her eyes as if in surprise and sighed heavily, discreetly spilling the milk prepared for the tomcat, hoping that no one noticed what she was doing. Oh well, she forgot again. Puss wasn't in town. She shook her head at her own naivety. She didn't want anyone to think that she did miss Puss in Boots, but she couldn't fool _herself_. Although she really did not want to admit it – the little ginger brat was her friend. Slightly stupid, in love with himself, not taking anything seriously, and _really annoying at times_ , but still a friend. Their relationship was strange, even though they had the most in common in the town. Before they both came to San Lorenzo, they lived a similar life as _"warriors, nomads, free spirits!_ " as Puss liked to say. Forever alone, invisible and mysterious. That's why their friendship was so... _extraordinary_. They were both not used to having friends, someone to look after them. Sure, Pajuna had Rose, but their relationship was based more on work than on attachment. In truth, Puss once told her (when they both couldn't sleep in the middle of the night and had somehow met in the canteen. He had offered to drink some of the Scotch, which he was _sure_ the cow had and he might even overdo it a little, but he must have felt really tired because Pajuna had never seen him crave for alcohol before.) that he had also once had a friend who, however, stabbed him in the back.

She couldn't believe the thought had even occurred to her, but she had a hard time getting used to life without Puss around. And she knew she wasn't the only one who felt that way.

That's why she was incredibly surprised this morning to see Dulcinea – cheerful as ever – humming softly to herself, throwing a disgustingly cheerful _"Good morning!"_ to everyone. She sat down at the bar, laying her Compendium next to her.

Pajuna opened her mouth slightly in surprise and discreetly looked at the faces of the rest of the inhabitants, who were just as surprised as she was.

The barmaid looked back at the she-cat, who continued to smile sweetly and looked at her expectantly.

“Ehm...” she stuttered, leaning her elbow on the counter in front of her. “Are you… feelin’ alright, lassie?”

Dulcinea smiled even wider (if that was at all possible) and Pajuna began to fear for her a little.

(Or _of_ her.)

“Of course!” she replied with a chuckle. “Why shouldn't I feel alright?”

Pajuna straightened and shrugged nervously, starting to polish the glass she had on hand again, even though it was perfectly clean.

“I don’ know. You just…” she sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling. “Ever since _that_ night you've been a little... depressed.”

Dulcinea's smile diminished slightly, but it did not completely disappear from her face. She looked at her hands and laughed a little to herself.

“Well... I guess I finally realized that you can't live in the past forever, right?”

Pajuna turned, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, and replied hesitantly.

“...Yeah. Yeah, you can’t. Good for you, lassie, keep it up.”

Dulcinea left shortly after, engaging in a short chat with señora Zapata, who also began to wonder about her strange behaviour. It's not that they weren't happy to see their Dulcinea coming back to life, but it was so… unexpected. Everyone expected her to gradually visualize Puss' disappearance, not that one day she would just... come to the inn _humming_ and _singing_ , and _enjoying_ everything as if she didn't remember that someone like Puss in Boots even _existed_.

How great was the surprise of the orphanage's caretaker when, in the late afternoon, Dulcinea asked if she needed anything from the Thieves' Market. She said something about books, but Zapata looked through her lies almost immediately. Because no matter how much time she spent with Puss in the Boots and how much she learned from him, _Dulcinea couldn't lie_. It was just in her nature, and no matter what she was doing, she couldn't fool anyone. This is why señora Zapata has come to one specific conclusion.

Dulcinea has met someone.

And she seemed to like this person so much that she forgot all about their former hero. Although Zapata herself advised her that she should stop thinking about him and simply let go, she did not know why, but she felt offended. Of course she was happy for Dulcinea, and would be very glad if one day she would bring someone nice to town. Someone decent, someone polite, someone modest, in a word – someone completely _different_ from Puss in the Boots, but... She did not expect it to happen so quickly.

After all, it was known from the very first day that the ginger exile appeared in the town, that Zapata _hated_ him with all her might. Besides, he was not particularly fond of her either. Their relationship was by far the strangest of all that their former protector had created with anyone in San Lorenzo. The two could not _stand_ each other and they _annoyed_ each other to the limits, but Puss would _never_ in his life allow anything or anyone to hurt or offend her, and Zapata shamefully remembered the situation in the Marketplace when she had nearly beaten one of the thieves who called Puss a coward. She didn't know why, she just... felt that she should do so and that _he_ would do the same in her place. Apart from that, they both cared about the same people – the orphans and Dulcinea. Although at first the woman wanted to skin him alive every time she saw him look at her, smile at her, or worse, _touch her_ , she realized over time that she would have liked Dulcinea to spend time with _him_ than with any other guy who might use her or hurt her. Because she knew that even if the ginger rat _was_ a bloody selfish moron in love with himself, he was at the same time incredibly possessive and protective. She knew that if anyone dared to even _look_ at Dulcinea the wrong way, he would destroy them.

Because that, in turn, was in _his_ nature. When it came to defending people close to him, he rejected everything that was important to him, even his precious code of honour, and became ruthless and merciless to his enemies to the point that Zapata would fear him herself if she stood on the wrong side of his sword.

Until now, she remembered clearly how he had almost foamed from his mouth when thieves had once tried to harm the orphans. It was just the way he was. Furious, untamed, free and faithful like a dog. Therefore Zapata felt somewhat offended that Dulcinea had simply forgotten him, considering that _she_ was the person he cared for the most.

And that Zapata couldn't forget about him herself.

But she couldn't help it. Dulcinea deserved happiness, and if she finally got down to looking for it alongside someone else, who was Zapata to blame her for it?

She calmly watched her drive away to the Thieves' Market and for the first time since _that_ night she wondered where Puss in Boots was or what he was doing.

***

The Thieves' Market was not a very pleasant place. There were bandits all around, ready to rob anyone who only encountered them. The only way to survive in there was to pay them a large sum upfront or to have respect and something they feared. Usually, it was brute force and ruthlessness, something that Puss in Boots did not lack.

When the next day he also appeared at the Market, all the thieves immediately got out of his way and fled from him in panic. But he was not interested in terrorizing them, although the terror in their eyes flattered him greatly. He was still thinking about last night, when he had seen his longtime partner with whom he had a certain contract.

They were both thieves and worked together, sharing the loot in half.

Puss hated thieves with all his heart. He was terribly disgusted with theft, because it was stealing that had made him an exile. But he had no other choice. Nowhere would he find a normal job, and even if he did, he could never earn enough to pay off his debt. Stealing was the only way to get the money he needed. But he had rules. He did not rob orphanages, churches, the poor, the sick, or ladies. He only fought criminals and robbed no one else. This is why he has made many dangerous enemies in the world of bandits over the years. Warlock, on the other hand, had no such qualms. He would rob an innocent child and wouldn't even care if it starved the next day, because of him. Which is why their relationship was so tense. Puss kept him from doing things like this, which often got the man on his nerves, but the ex-hero could not live with the knowledge that he had paid his debt with money taken from someone, who needed it more. He would have given everything he had collected so far if the lives of innocent people depended on it.

Or at least that was what he liked to say to himself every night, when he stared at the bags stuffed with stolen gold.

He grimaced as he pushed a glass from his mouth, filled with possibly the worst milk he had ever tasted. He restrained himself from the unpleasant comment on the tip of his tongue and simply spilled the rest of the drink on the ground. He rested his elbows on the counter behind him and carefully scanned the market in front of him. He really should have left a long time ago, but something strange inside made him stay and wait, although he didn't really know what for.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him when from the corner of his eye he noticed a chestnut mare, slowly entering the market, and on her back no one else but the lovely cat lady he had met yesterday.

He smirked, tossed one coin on the counter behind him, adjusted his hat, and jumped onto Babieca's back. He made his horse walk slowly towards her, discreetly checking his breath along the way. When he was close enough, he gently smacked his mount with his foot, making it begin to make a steady circles around his new friend and her mare.

She widened her eyes in astonishment when she noticed him and squealed a little in surprise, but then she smiled sweetly, following him with her eyes as Puss continued trotting around her.

“Oh, señor saviour! You scared me!” she said, giggling sweetly, as the he stopped right next to her, so close that it was enough for him to extend his hand and he could brush his fingers over her knees.

He chuckled lowly.

“Well, I am naturally terrifying.” he said, flashing his white teeth at her. His expression changed, however, and he looked at her concerned, nodding towards the market. “What are you doing here, my lady? This place is not very safe. You should not be here alone.”

Dulcinea rolled her eyes at his remark, still smiling under her breath.

“I was just going to take a little ride. I like the peace and quiet of the desert, this wonderful view of the horizon…” she sighed, closing her eyes. Puss looked at her entranced. This woman was really fascinating and there was something about her that drew him to her.

“Would you mind, señorita, if I joined you? I also love that feeling of freedom. Besides, I would feel much more at ease knowing that you are not alone.” he said honestly, putting his hand over his heart.

Dulcinea opened her eyes and turned her face a little, looking at him seductively and smiling indecently sweet. This time it was _her_ who started to go in circles around him, and Puss couldn't tear his gaze away from her beautiful eyes.

“Would you protect me from any danger, señor saviour?” she purred and Puss looked at her mouth, trying desperately to keep his thoughts from wandering in the wrong direction.

“I would not let anyone hurt you, _hermosa_.”

Suddenly she stopped her horse, causing Puss to almost fall off Babieca's back.

“Lovely!” she chirped, smiling that delightful smile again. “Let's go then. I know a wonderful place to watch the sunset. I’ll lead the way.”

Puss just stared after her, eyes wide, as she passed him with her chin raised proudly and a satisfied little smirk plastered on her mouth. He simply looked at her back untill a second later he raised one eyebrow intrigued and also smirked, rushing his horse, starting their race through the desert.


	4. Stay

Dulcinea felt truly happy for the first time in months.

She spent the whole day at her lover's side, laughing, joking, racing, listening to him telling stories about his adventures across the globe. During those few hours, it felt as if they didn’t need to care about anything anymore. As if they were completely alone in a world wide open to them, with no one to pursue them, and nothing to hold them back. In a world on their own, alone together. She forgot everything when she listened to him laugh. She forgot about San Lorenzo, she forgot about the townspeople who were probably already worried about her. For the first time in her life, she felt that she did not want to come back to them. She wanted to stay with her hero, get away from everything with him, because she knew he would _protect_ her, _love_ her and _care_ for her like he always did.

Even if he didn't remember.

She laughed out loud once more at some nifty comment he made about the thieves at the market and turned her face away, wanting to catch her breath. She bit her lip, feeling another huge smile sneaking on her lips, as she heard the steady clatter of Babieca's hooves behind her. Puss gently patted his steed on the neck and caught up with her, his green eyes gleaming in the darkness of the forest they had driven into.

“I do not wish to sound… _cheesy_ ,” Puss chuckled suddenly, combing his stallion's grey mane with his fingers. “but has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes? I am sure they did. They are dazzling.”

Dulcinea giggled again, covering her mouth with her paw, then waved her hand at him.

“Oh, stop it! You've been complimenting me since we left the market! I'm not _that_ delightful.” she rolled her eyes, also starting to play with her horse's black mane.

Puss laughed out loud, tossing his head back a little, showing the world his perfect teeth.

When he calmed down, he looked again at his companion, on whom the warm orange rays of the setting sun, breaking through the canopy of trees above them, had just fallen. In its light, when the thin streams touched her cheeks tenderly and reflected beautifully in her gently closed eyes, she looked like a real angel. So pure and delicate. Too perfect for this cruel world, which had this to itself, that it wanted to destroy _everything_ that had even a trace of beauty or goodness in it. Puss felt something strange awaken in his chest, something that he had never felt before, or at least couldn't remember if he did. Some monster, some... _other side_ of _him_ , buried for so many years under so many layers of scars and cuts, hidden at the bottom of his heart, suddenly felt the need to reveal itself and shout at him that _he could not leave this angel_ _alone_ , because he would condemn her to experience those _horrible_ tortures the world and the corrupt people living in it have prepared, those things she didn't deserve. This… this _thing_ was _screaming_ at him not to let her go, ordering him to lock her in his arms and protect, defend against all evil and keep only to himself.

And it terrified him because he couldn't let himself listen.

“ _You are so sweet. Completely innocent. Perfect beauty. If you stay with me, I will destroy you. Even if I really do not want to.”_

“But you are.” he said, smiling sadly. “They are very pretty.”

Dulcinea looked up at him and gave him a tender smile. Her face lit up as she noticed that they reached their destination.

“We're here already!” she announced happily, gripping the reins tighter and steering her horse down the well-trodden path nearby.

Puss followed her, leaning from side to side every now and then, careful to steer his horse gingerly as he descended the steep hill. When Babieca's hooves rested safely on the soft, warm sand, Puss jumped off his back neatly and gently stroked his dark muzzle, making the white mustang snort, and nudge him in the chest with his nose. Puss smiled slightly at his playful nature and turned to Dulcinea, still sitting on the back of her lovely chestnut. He walked up to her, his heavy boots making the characteristic sound of shuffling in the sand, and stuck his hand towards her. She smiled gratefully and holding her dress with one hand, also jumped down onto the beach, straight into her friend's hands.

Their noses almost touched when he embraced her waist, and for literally a split second that for him lasted like a whole eternity, they just stared into each other's eyes, as if looking straight into each other's souls. As if she wanted to find him and call for him, and as if he tried to remember every inch of her beautiful face and every glimmer of light reflected in her azure eyes.

She pulled away and immediately began to take careful steps on her way to the low rocks – the perfect place to sit down and rest.

Puss just stood motionless for a moment, looking at the spot where she was standing just a second ago. He frowned at his outstretched hands, with which he had pressed her against himself, and turned his gaze to her figure, sitting on a stone by a small lake, surrounded by sunlight. He blinked in surprise, feeling that he had witnessed a scene like this before, but quickly dismissed the thought as idiotic. He followed her and sat down beside her, resting his outstretched arm on his bent knee.

“It’s beautiful, isn't it?” she said with delight, looking ahead.

There was silence between them, interrupted only by the soft sound of the water crawling against the lake shore and the distant screeching of gulls. But when Puss opened his mouth to answer, she cut him off, giggling.

“Don't look at me, look at the horizon.”

The masked hero smiled awkwardly and turned his head, the familiar image of a sunset almost slapping him in the face. The sky and clouds took the colour of dark purple, pink, and closer to the sun – yellow, fiery red. The picture was so beautiful that it was hard to look away. This miracle of nature looked like a rain of gold. Huge clouds surrounded the sun like the largest comforter in the world, like a pair of huge, white and fluffy angel’s wings. All this wonderful picture was reflected in the waters of the lake, enclosing them in this little fantastic world.

He turned to Dulcinea again.

She looked at the water, lost in the rhythmic percussion of waves on sand. Her eyes were steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays of the day. Her lips beared the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that she was enjoying her thoughts, whatever they may be. He moved a little closer so that she could feel his presence, yet stayed quiet, allowing them to stay lost in the moment a while longer.

“You are fascinating.”

She quickly turned her head towards him, raising one eyebrow.

“Am I?”

Puss made a rather inarticulate sound, reminiscent of the screeching of the seagulls flying overhead and immediately bit his tongue, realizing he had said it aloud.

“W-well, I… uh...” he stuttered, scratching behind his ear. “I do not know why I said that. It is just... During our last meeting you were very careful and you did not wish for me to walk you home, and today you are taking me _all by yourself_ through the uninhabited desert and forest to this secluded... but very charming little place, I must say. What I mean is… I can not read you.” he finally admitted, sending her a curious look.

Dulcinea turned, a satisfied little smirk present on her lips all the time. She shrugged.

“You know what they say. There's no finer commodity than strangeness, eccentricity and oddity.” she recited.

Puss purred, thinking for a second.

“No one says that.”

“I do.” she shrugged again and smiled cheerfully, when the masked tomcat laughed out laud.

“So...” he began seductively after they both calmed down. “What else can you tell me about yourself, señorita? Of course, except that you know a lot of rather unusual quotes.”

Dulcinea giggled again, covering her mouth with her hand. She fluttered her eyelashes as she gently suckled her way towards him.

“What would you like to know about me?” she asked.

Puss fell silent for a moment, looking at the horizon.

He didn't know exactly _what_ he wanted to ask her. All he knew was that he had a lot of questions, because he wanted to know _everything_ about this woman. He wasn't sure what interested him so much in her, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't explain it. And it really frightened him a little.

Puss in Boots could flirt with women (and men too, actually) and he did not want to brag (an outright _lie_ ), but he was pretty good at it. But for nothing in the world he could have a simple conversation that would require even minimal knowledge of human psyche and behaviour. Puss suddenly realized with horror that he couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken like this to anyone.

“Well, what I know for sure is that you are definitely the most mysterious woman I have ever met.” he smiled charmingly as he looked at her from under his hat, and Dulcinea had to turn her face in embarrassment, so he couldn’t see her broad grin. “Tell me some other things about yourself.”

Dulcinea bit her lip and she wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Well… My name’s Dulcinea...” Puss snorted so she shushed him with a slight laugh. “As a teacher, I pay a lot of attention to manners. I always try to help others and see the good side in people. I like fiction and I love poetry... Oh! My favourite book is-"

“ _The Wee Compendium of Facts and Funne.”_ he blurted out suddenly.

Shocked, she opened her mouth, looking at him as if he said something amazing, when all he did was just give the title of her beloved book.

A title he had no right to know.

Puss also looked like he wasn't sure what he had just said. Because he wasn't. He had never even heard of such book in his life, let alone had something like that in his hands. The name simply came to his mind, and from the moment it left his mouth, it crashed around in his head, as if trying to open that closed drawer of memories from which it had crawled out.

He looked up at her. Dulcinea took turns opening and closing her mouth, but no sound came out of it. After a while, however, she frowned and shook her head gently, smiling barely noticeably, and something like hope glistened in her eyes.

“How...” she stuttered. “How did you know?”

Puss shrugged, as he skimmed stones on the water, his brow furrowed as he tried to answer her question, because…

 _How_ did he know?

“I did not.” he finally decided to answer. “I just… well, I heard this title somewhere and it was the first thing that came to my mind.”

“Ah...” she nodded hesitantly, turning to look at the horizon beyond which the sun was almost gone. She was thinking intensely about something. She continued talking, but the words that left her mouth were not coming from her head. “I see. It's a really great book though. It gives food for thought.”

Puss sensed the atmosphere between them becoming increasingly tense. He decided he had to deal with it somehow.

Pretending to stretch, he leaned back a little and looked pleadingly at Babieca. The stallion – still chewing on some grass – raised his head and looked at his friend as well. The redhead looked pointedly at the cat lady next to him, expecting some advice from his steed or _at least_ some support, but the horse only gave him _that_ look, the one Puss knew all too well.

‘ _You must be really desperate if you ask your horse for advice.’_

The former hero puffed out his cheeks, noting that in the near future he would have to limit his horse's access to sugar.

“What are you doing?”

Surprised, Puss squeaked in a not very masculine voice and almost fell off the rock they were both sitting on, when Dulcinea suddenly asked him this question. He quickly pulled himself together and straightened, trying to pretend that no act of humiliating astonishment had taken place, clearing his throat and dusting the black sleeves of his robes.

She covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a slight giggle, at which Puss cleared his throat again.

“I was… nothing. Erm, you-you said you were a teacher, yes?”

Her eyes lit up at the mention.

“I teach a small group of children from an orphanage.”

Puss nodded, clearly interested and glad that his earlier little performance has been forgotten.

“I am na orphan myself.” he admitted, putting his hand on the hilt of the sword at his belt.

Dulcinea bit her tongue before she could blur out _"I know"_. Instead, she looked at him surprised, as she hoped that her expression didn't look as fake as it was.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” he said, looking at the shaft of his sword, on which a tiny cat's head was carved, decorated with stripes similar to those on his head. “I suppose my parents abandoned me when I was born, or died shortly after. I have never really thought about it, because I will not find out the truth anyway.”

She looked at him with sadness in her eyes. Of course she knew Puss was an orphan, he had said it on the very first day he had come to town. But all the time he spent there and... _lived_ there, she just... had forgotten about it. And he voluntarily never entered a topic that had anything to do with his past.

She put a hand on his forearm.

“It must have been very hard for you.”

Puss looked down at her hand. And it felt... _weird_ , if one can put it that way. He knew this strange feeling, his heart reacted to it, although he didn't quite know _where_ he knew it _from_. He couldn't remember the last time someone touched him like this. Not sexually, not to rob or punch him, just... reassuring. Showing... a _feeling_ Puss knew the name of, but feared it like nothing else in the world.

He quickly removed his arm.

“It is nothing, really.” he assured her, rubbing his hand gently at the place where her warm, silky paw had been a second ago. “I try… not to think about it. It is pointless.”

Dulcinea tried not to show how it hurt her that Puss pulled away. Instead, she looked in another direction, only muttering a reply.

“Yeah… you’re right.”

There was an awkward silence between them again. The sun went down. The first stars began to appear in the sky.

“So how about...” Dulcinea began, forcing him to look at her, and the ex-hero could not help feeling that he saw an angel in front of him again.

But this time his angel was surrounded by white, subtle light of the moon, that reflected in her eyes like in two sapphire mirrors, and _oh_ these mirrors – only they knew the true beauty and goodness of the world that had hurt him so many times, and he was sure they were the only ones that could protect him from further wounds.

“...So what do you think?”

“Eh what.”

Puss suddenly shook his head violently and blinked his eyes. He just realized that he was not listening to a single word she said. If his face wasn't covered with a black mask, she would surely see his blush.

She raised an eyebrow, as he smiled awkwardly at her.

“I asked,” she repeated, and this time Puss listened very carefully. “if you could tell me something about yourself. Like I did.”

He opened his mouth, but she quickly cut him off.

“You don't have to tell me your name.”

He chuckled and she smiled, and it was almost as if the two of them were still living in San Lorenzo, and at night, when they were both unable to sleep, they went out to the square and sat together on the fountain, talking late and searching together in the sky for the most different constellations.

He moved a little closer, and she looked at him with a slight suspicion. He shrugged, throwing his cloak over her shoulders.

“It is getting cold. I do not want you to get sick.”

She smiled under her breath at his tenderness and moved closer to him as well. She felt his whole body tense for a second as she decided to put her head on his shoulder, just to relax a moment later. He cleared his throat again.

“What would you like to know?” he _purred_ right next to her ear, his voice deep and low, and she had to bite her lip not to squeal. For a moment she pretended to think, though the questions had been prepared for a long time. From the first moment she met him. She looked up at him.

“Where are you from? Where did you grow up?” she asked, her lovely voice only slightly louder than a whisper, her warm breath caressing his neck and cheek.

He hesitated.

“It is just a patch of dirt, really.” he laughed artificially, but one look into her serious blue eyes made him stifle that laugh in his throat. He sighed softly, looking away. “Oh, alright… San Ricardo. It is rather... an ordinary town. Nothing special. It is very dry there most of the year. But they have excellent _churros_ , the best in the land.”

“That’s nice.” she smiled, then frowned. “So what are you doing _here_ , mister saviour? Could there be no beautiful young ladies to save in San Ricardo?”

He laughed again and gently stroked the hand she placed on his bicep with the back of his paw.

“It is not that...” his laugh died out, so she raised her head a little, but he was doing everything to not look her in the eyes. “I had to leave my hometown because of something my close friend did, he-... I can not come back there now.”

Dulcinea put her ears back, looking at him sadly.

“That’s not a happy story.”

He huffed with a laugh.

“Well, I do not live a happy life.”

Suddenly Dulcinea didn't know what else to say. She had a lot of questions in her mind, but after his last answer, she wasn't sure if she should ask him about anything anymore. Puss was very secretive both _now_ and while he lived in San Lorenzo. She knew that whatever she asked him, he would certainly dodge the answer in some clever way or simply lie. But she didn't want to sit in silence, she wanted to hear him talk, even if it had to be about his beloved boots or other stupid, unimportant things. She wanted to cuddle him, close her eyes and pretend that everything was fine, that he hadn't disappeared at all, that he remembered and loved her, and they were just on their second date.

But they weren’t.

Puss was the one who broke the silence.

“As I said. _Fascinating_.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder and frowned. How was she _fascinating_? She was flattered that he said that, of course, his compliments and the ease with which he always called her _"beautiful"_ always made her happy, but she couldn't understand _that_ _one_ specifically, because she didn't see anything really fascinating about herself.

He read the question in her eyes and smirked.

“Do you not think you should be a bit more careful with whom you are going into the dark woods?” he wiggled his eyebrows, coming a little closer to her nose. “What if I turned out to be some kind of robber or murderer? What would you do?”

If Dulcinea knew anything about Puss in Boots, she certainly knew how he flirted with women, how he flirted with _her_. She knew how he liked to tease her and how _he_ liked to be teased. She knew all his tricks and games very well and could not help but smile when she looked into those green eyes and saw her friend. Not a lover or a boyfriend. _A friend_. The _friend_ he had become long before she began to develop any romantic feelings towards him. It was this friendship that cemented their relationship and made them work together so well. At that point, she already knew that _her Puss_ was in there somewhere, and maybe he had changed a bit, but he was the same person, the same Puss, _her best friend_.

The man she decided she wanted to get back.

“Well...” she fluttered her eyelashes innocently, moving closer to his face and almost imperceptibly rubbing their noses. “I’m not really supposed to talk to strangers. But now, that you mentioned it, it _does_ feel as if we’ve met before, doesn’t it?”

His gaze lingered on her lips and he tilted his head a little.

“So what now? What if we assume that we have known each other for a long time?” he purred seductively in his low voice, that vibrated in her chest.

“What do you think we should do? Since we haven't seen each other for so long… What do you think _you_ should do, señor saviour...?” she asked, almost breathless, longing for the feeling of his lips on hers, thirsty for at least one decent kiss, full of passion, conscious. A kiss they never had a chance to share.

She could feel his hot, minty breath. His hand was only a millimeter from her cheek. She licked her lips gently.

And finished.

“Or should I just call you Puss in Boots?”

Puss froze.

Without changing their position, he looked at her with wide eyes, at what she smiled sweetly, looking at him with an almost unhealthy dose of complacency.

In the blink of an eye, however, he narrowed his eyes and locked both her hands with one of his, turning her so that she had her back against his chest, and with the other he reached into his left boot, pulling out a black, ornate dagger which he held to her throat.

“How did you know?” he hissed straight to her left ear, and Dulcinea knew she should be scared, or _at least_ a little anxious, but she could not fear him, and his grunts, instead of making her spine tingle with fear, only made her feel a pleasant tingling in her abdomen. Really, she shouldn't like Puss being rough _that_ much...

She huffed, unable to suppress a smug smile.

“You wear a mask, there are wanted posters with your image everywhere and you _just_ confessed to me that you were banished from San Ricardo. Besides…” she nodded gently downward. “These boots.”

Puss's eyes widened and he looked down as well. He puffed his cheeks, visibly angry and irritated that she had managed to expose him.

She moved her head to look at him. He was staring down at her with a serious expression that only made her smile even more.

“Did you really think I was stupid? And put that knife away, I wouldn't be able to get away from you anyway. I heard that you are the fastest rider in all the-”

In response, he only moved the blade closer to her neck, forcing her to cut her sentence short.

“And how can I be sure that you do not have a dagger under your skirt, that you will stick in my back?” he growled again, at which Dulcinea had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“You sound like something like this has happened to you before.” she snorted with a slight laugh, as Puss became more irritated with her every word. “If you’re so concerned, then go on. Check for yourself.”

Her statement clearly surprised him. For a moment he looked like he was going to say something, to do something, but he quickly gave up on whatever he had in mind. He hesitated for a second, but then released her wrists and took the dagger from her throat. He got up and put the small blade back in the secret pocket in his boot. Dulcinea raised one eyebrow, carefully watching his movements as he dusted off his black clothes and seemed to completely lose interest in her. She kept repeating only one question in her head:

‘ _What is he doing, what is he doing,_ what _is he_ doing _-”_

“It is time for me to go.” he said unexpectedly, adjusting his hat on his head and without even looking at her, jumped off the low rock and walked calmly but briskly towards their horses.

Dulcinea looked after him in horror.

But just a second later her natural courage and stubbornness returned, so she got up as well and followed him.

“ _Time to go?_ ” she repeated angrily, trying not to fall over in the sand, but the heels of her shoes were dripping in it. “And to _where_ exactly? Are you even listening? Answer me!” she demanded, stamping her foot and placing her hands on her hips, when she watched Puss leap onto Babieca's back as the stallion bent his front leg to make it easier for his rider to climb.

Instead of answering, he tapped the steed’s side with his heel and the horse slowly moved forward. Shocked, Dulcinea's eyes widened as he passed her by, without even a _glance_ in her direction.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” she asked angrily, running alongside Babieca and getting nervous more and more as she noticed that Puss was stubbornly staring straight ahead with an unfazed expression.

“Hell, most likely.” he answered nonchalantly.

Dulcinea snorted in disbelief and stopped.

“So what? Will you just leave me here alone? What about that _"I won't let anyone hurt you"_ thing?”

“You said that you can take care of yourself.” he exclaimed over his shoulder, not stopping his horse.

Dulcinea wanted to cry.

Because it _wasn't_ her Puss, it _couldn't_ be him. _Her_ Puss wasn’t so _heartless_ and so _egoistical_ , and so, _so…_ He wouldn't leave her like that, not in the dark night, alone in some forest! He wouldn't...

She felt like something suddenly hit her. He _would_.

He would have left her. And he even tried once. The first day they met. She looked dazzled at the back of the slowly departing exile. It _was_ her Puss. Just like in the beginning. Because he has not yet changed for the better. He had no reason to. Because Dulcinea hadn't forced him yet.

She immediately knew what she had to do.

“You know you can't run forever!”

He stopped.

And her heart did too.

He turned and glared at her angrily.

“Of course I can.” he snarled. “I am an exile. Running away is all I _have_ to do.”

Dulcinea took a firm step forward, staring up at him with determination.

“No.” she said emphatically. “No, you don’t.”

He frowned and jumped off his horse, also taking decisive steps towards her.

“Listen up, _sweetheart_ ,”he growled, coming face to face with her, but she didn't bow to his fiery gaze. “do you think you can just show up and tell me how to live my life? You do not know anything about _me_ or anything I have been through!” he turned sharply to leave, but her voice made him stop mid-step.

“Look, I know” she sighed, approaching him carefully. “that you’re an outlaw. I know you’re self-centered. I know you’re egotistical. I know-”

“Are you _insulting_ me?” he hissed as he looked at her over his shoulder.

“But I know you have a good heart.” she said, folding her hands together and placing them against her own heart, which was now beating like a huge bell, and she was pretty sure that if he listened, he could hear it. “And... running away... is _not_ the solution. And _yes_ , it's the only thing you've ever known, but I think... it's about time someone showed you another way. Stay. _Please._ ”

He snorted, slowly turning and standing sideways to her, glaring at her from head to toe. He gave her a contemptuous look, smiling pityingly.

“And what do _you_ know about difficult past?” he asked, one hand resting on his hip and the other waving casually at her.

She shrugged smiling tenderly.

“Not much.” she admitted, but then looked him straight in the eye. “But I know how to help people.”


	5. And suddenly everyone wants to help

He was a hero once. But everything has changed since then.

“I paid. So take the damn money and get out of my sight.” he rasped to the bartender at the Thieves' Market, who was already starting to irritate him.

He took a long gulp straight from the bottle of whiskey.

Cats weren't supposed to drink alcohol, but at that point he didn't care at all. Over the years of his criminal life, he had managed to try many dangerous things and knew exactly how much he could take.

He tilted the bottle again. The burning sensation in his throat gave him a sense of relief.

He had to think.

Only an hour ago, he had a lovely evening with a wonderfully beautiful cat lady. Up to a point at least. It turned out that she knew his identity from the very beginning. The identity he had tried so hard to protect. He felt like the biggest idiot when he realized how easily he had let her seduce him. The possibility that she might be some kind of a spy never even occurred to him. He followed her into the forest like a lost fool, straight to some lonely, abandoned place, and it never occurred to him that maybe, _just_ _maybe_ , he should not. He had completely forgotten that his first and foremost rule was _don't hang out or get into conversation with someone you have no business with_. She could be _anyone_ , she could even kill him and take the bounty on his head, and he stupidly hadn't even thought about it, because he was too busy staring into her pretty blue eyes. He couldn't find words to express his embarrassment when he remembered how _he_ had told her about being careful and then, like an idiot, let her cuddle up to him. Puss in Boots was an excellent fighter, but his fighting skills would have been of no avail if he had been stabbed in the ribs!

He was furious with himself.

This was the first time that he was so fooled by such… _attractive_ devil woman.

He sighed and rested his elbows on the counter.

But what a woman it was. _Dulcinea_. He snorted. He had never met such a nosy and impudent person on his way.

“ _You can’t run forever!”_

_Rubbish._

He swallowed a third large mouthful of alcohol.

She offered to help him. As soon as that phrase left her mouth, he laughed in her face. She? Help _him_? And how could such a sweet, naive kitty _help him?_ She had no idea who he was, she knew _nothing_ but his name. She didn't know his past, she didn't know what he had to face. She thought, in that pretty little head of hers, that she would be his _guardian angel_ or something, and it didn't occur to her that he _didn't need her at all_. He didn’t need saving. He was absolutely _fine_.

He took another gulp.

“I do not need anyone...” he muttered to himself.

“But maybe someone needs _you_.”

He smiled mockingly to himself. He laughed softly, his voice low and a little hoarse from the alcohol.

“ _Miss Dulcinea!_ ” he chuckled, taking another sip from the bottle. “What a coincidence meeting you here.”

He could _hear_ how she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Surprised to see me?”

“No, not really.” he said lightly, studying the amber liquid in the bottle in front of him. “I have been listening to your footsteps in sand for about five minutes.”

He finally turned to face her. She stood with her right hip slightly to the side, her arms folded across her chest, looking at him with the same proud gaze from an hour ago. He chuckled quietly.

“You really need to learn when to give up.”

“And you need to stop running sometime.” she retorted without hesitating, staring defiantly in his eyes.

“ _T_ _ouché,_ _little girl...”_ he thought to himself.

“But I am so good at it.” he replied and turned back to the bar. Dulcinea sat down next to him. “Would you like a drink?” he asked, when she kept staring at him, even as he took another large gulp.

“I don’t drink alcohol.”

“I am sorry for you.”

“No need.” she replied politely, crossing her legs and glaring at the drink in his hand. “Alcohol turns even the greatest gentlemen into complete scoundrels.”

Puss lifted his index finger and swallowed again.

“No, no, my dear, it does _not_.” he denied, extremely pleased with himself, his teeth gleaming at her. The world seemed a happier place, and he could think of only brilliant arguments. That was what he needed. “It only brings out what they _truly_ are. Underneath the whole lot of labels and pretty collars.”

“So you think you are better than them?” she scoffed.

Puss shook his head, waving his hands around.

“Oh, no, of _course_ not.” he said, and turned, so he could rest his back and elbows at the counter. “But in my experience eloquent men are right every bit as often as imbeciles. _I,_ my sweet, am not one of those men. I do not pretend to be someone I am not. If I feel like a drink, I go and drink. Is that not wonderful?”

She looked at him for several seconds. He couldn't read anything from that look, so he didn't really focus on it. Instead he looked at the stars. Oh, how he _loved_ the stars...

“I'm not here to talk about your drinking culture.” she said suddenly, and he turned his head sharply to look at her.

“ _That_ ,” he said. “is a pity, because it is a really interesting topic.”

This time it was Dulcinea's turn to snort.

“Do you always do this when there’s a problem on your way?” she asked. “You drink and choose to ignore it?”

“Precisely.” he admitted. He raised his head to meet her determined eyes. She had beautiful eyes. Really wonderful. He has always had a weakness for blue eyes. He smirked again. “But I can not just ignore _you_ , can I?”

“You are insolent.”

“I prefer the term _honest_.”

She narrowed her eyes as she took a deep breath through her nose. His behaviour was starting to irritate her. She huffed softly, watching as he nonchalantly looked around, not paying attention to her at all.

“Awfully confident, aren’t you?” she asked sarcastically.

Puss muttered softly as he turned and studied the hilt of his sword.

“I could kill every person at this market before most of them have a chance to get to their feet or reach for a sword. Skills like that do _wonders_ for a person self confidence.”

Dulcinea rolled her eyes. Puss took another tiny sip, sighed softly, and turned his head towards her, squinting his eyes and smirking endearingly.

“Why are you here?” he asked in a low voice that he knew exactly how affected women. “What is your purpose in _this_ , my beautiful little trickster? Because considering I laughed in your face and ran away and _you_ followed me _all the way here_ ,” There was clear mockery in his voice, which he tried to mask under false politeness and a torrent of words. “I suppose you _do_ have one.” he nodded the bottle at her and winked, then turned back and took another sip.

She watched his face closely as she replied.

“I could ask you the same thing.” she said, and he stopped drinking, but did not lift the bottle from his mouth. “ _Why_ are _you_ here? Why do you do this to yourself?” She glanced eloquently at the wanted poster on the counter next to them.

He bent his head in such a way that the hat covered his eyes and croaked.

“It was _never_ my choice-”

“Wasn’t it?” she cut him of, raising an eyebrow in pity. “Then why aren’t you trying to fix this? Why are you sitting in a seedy bar in the middle of the desert and drinking that disgusting whiskey instead of-”

He put the bottle down on the counter with a loud thud that scared the horses nearby.

“I thought I told you,” he growled, moving closer to her face. “that what _I_ do is _none_ of your business. So stop following me, pretending to be some goddamn guardian angel.”

He jumped off his stool and began to walk away, adjusting his hat on the way. Dulcinea clenched her hands into fists and immediately followed him. She grabbed his arm and turned to face her. He looked at her clearly irritated.

“If I tell you to get off in Spanish, will you finally leave me alone?” he growled.

She looked at him angrily. He was acting like a jerk, and the fact that he had changed his attitude towards her soon after she turned out to be a bit smarter than he thought, had pissed her off terribly.

She put her hands on her hips, her brow furrowed.

“Could you quit this selfish act of yours for just _once_ in your life?!” she asked furiously, digging her index finger into his chest.

She sighed in surprise when he suddenly grabbed her hand tightly in the wrist. With a groan she struggled to get away from him, but he was unfazed, looking at her straight in the eye.

“I advise you not to provoke me,” hi hissed close to her face. “because I have never hit a woman before...”

She looked at him in disbelief. She stopped trying to break free from his tight grip. Instead, she huffed and straightened, her cheek facing him.

“Go on.” she said defiantly. “If you want to boost your ego this way.”

Puss looked at her for a moment. After a few seconds, however, he just snorted and released her hand. She looked at him, rubbing her right wrist, but he was looking somewhere to the left.

“Get out of here.” he muttered and turned.

“You're not one to command me!” she called after him.

“Then stay here and die, see if I care!” he called back over his shoulder.

Dulcinea opened her mouth in shock. But it didn't last long because after a second she growled loudly in annoyance.

“Why are you so…! _So_ …!” she chocked out, closing her eyes with irritation and he stopped, peering at her from the corner of his eye.

“Handsome and charming?”

“ _Selfish and self-absorbed!_ ” she shouted.

“Because nobody cares about me!” he shouted back, turning to face her and spreading his arms wide.

“I do! I care about you!”

“You do not _know_ me!”

“Stop _saying_ that!”

He snorted.

“Are you making _fun_ of me right now?” he asked menacingly, approaching her with quick, confident steps but Dulcinea was not afraid of him. She stepped closer as well. “We do not know each other!” he said bluntly.

“But have you _ever_ given _anyone_ a chance to get to know you?” she asked a bit more carefully, rubbing her arms with her hands, trying to calm herself as she stood directly in front of him.

“Once.” he growled, turning his gaze away. “And I will never make that mistake again. I will tell you something, sweetheart,” he said suddenly, looking straight into her eyes, their faces closer than needed. “the more people you trust, the weaker you become. Remember that.”

She huffed lightly, and smiled tenderly at him.

“Listen,” she started, slightly stretching her hand towards him and almost imperceptibly touching his fingers with hers. “I know what you-”

He laughed mockingly.

“Oh, you do _not_.” he said emphatically, taking his hand away abruptly. “And do not even _try_ to annoy me by saying you know what I have been through. A day will come when you think you are _safe_ and _happy_ , and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth. Only when this happens, you can come to me and say that you know what _I_ feel.”

She stared in surprise at his blazing eyes. How his chest was undulating violently. He glared at her angrily and she looked back at him in disbelief and mockery.

“Do you think that you are the only one who lost something?”

He fell silent. Dulcinea laughed bitterly, looking straight into his eyes.

“You think that you are the only one who has ever been harmed? _Wow_ , you really _are_ egotistical.”

He didn't answer anything, just turned his face away, which only confirmed what she had just said. She snorted again.

“Alright then.” she said and turned her back at him. “If you want to keep drinking alone, meditate on your _horrible life_ and keep stealing, go ahead, who am I to stop you. But never again dare to say that it was not your choice. It _is_ your choice. You can continue with your worthless life, or you can become someone who matters. It is only your fault, that you’re too much of a coward to take a risk.”

She headed towards her horse.

But with every step she took, she hoped Puss would stop her. However, he did not. She was waiting for him. She stroked her mare's muzzle, adjusted her dress, she had never climbed a horse for so long in her life. But he did nothing. She discreetly looked back, and he was still standing in the same place, not even looking at her. She sighed. She didn't know what else to do. So she tugged on the reins...

He stood there with tormented eyes, shivering under the wind. Only a whisper away…

“ _Stay. Please.”_

“Why are you doing that?”

She turned abruptly. Puss stared at her, but his eyes showed no trace of any previous anger or cynicism. He was frowning as if he was thinking hard about something, he absolutely couldn't understand.

“Doing what?” she frowned.

“Treating me like a person.”

She opened her mouth slightly in surprise. She shook her head gently from side to side and moved her lips as if to ask _"What?"_ , but no sound came from between them.

“But...” she paused and looked at him with shock. “how else am I supposed to treat you?”

He huffed mockingly, smiling in that incredulous way. She knew that smile. She knew what he thought about her. He thought she was naive and stupid. Well. If she was naive about wanting him back, then she didn't want to be any different. Because she was sure that if he had been in her place, he would have done the same long ago. Except Puss wouldn't cry and wait for them to magically meet one day. He would be looking for her. And he wouldn't give up until he found her.

But it wasn't like that. He didn't remember her, and it was up to her to keep his memories on the right track.

At least to _try_.

“Like a thief?” he said, raising one eyebrow as if he was saying something obvious. “A wanted criminal? You said it yourself that you saw wanted posters with my name on it. And with the most sincere respect, does it not seem, well… _stupid_ to you? To spend _“quality time”,_ ” he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “with _me_? With someone for whose head you can get five hundred reales? Why do you think _I_ am worth your help?”

This is the first time he has met with such an initiative. When someone whom he practically did not know selflessly wanted to help him, and for no particular reason. Dulcinea was not like other people. No one else has ever tried to get close to him. No one noticed how guilty he felt though all this years, they only saw his guilt. No one saw the pain he was in, they only saw the pain he caused.

No one realized he hated himself, far more than any hated him.

“Why do you think you’re not?”

He didn't answer right away. He turned to the bar they were sitting at a moment ago and jumped back into place. With his back to her, he sat and stared at his hands from which he removed his black gloves.

Dulcinea jumped off her horse and slowly walked towards him. She sat down next to him and waited for his reply.

“I have done many things in my life.” he began quietly, sticking out the claws in his right paw, looking at them as if they brought back memories, and not necessarily the nicest ones. “You know, I mean… really bad. Horrible things. Unforgivable.” he rubbed his face with his other hand. He looked tired, and Dulcinea thought he must have spoken to no one about it for a long time. He was having trouble forming his thoughts, and he very much refused to meet her eyes. “I was a hero once. And now people are afraid of me.”

She shook her head and looked at him, touching his arm gently.

“You are not as evil, as they think you are. You’re not that kind of man.” she stated.

“No,” he chuckled lowly, and looked at her with another sly smirk, but his eyes were _sad_. He was struggling for so long, and until now, no one reached out to help him. “I am much worse. The man I once was is already dead. Now all that is left is the monster.”

She was speechless.

She couldn’t believe her own eyes. He drank down his grief like it was the finest red wine. Like it was the purest blood. And after years of trying to drink it all, she was sure, he never could tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

She sighed, moving her hand from his arm to his paw. He looked at it for a second. He… liked it. Her touch. It was soothing. He thought she could touch his hand more often.

“You are _not_ a monster-”

“How do you know?” he interrupted her. He was giving her that sad smile, and she absolutely hated the sight of her Puss so… so _broken_. “We have only met yesterday. _How,_ ” he whispered. “do you _know_?”

“Because-” she paused.

What was she supposed to tell him?

She couldn't tell him about San Lorenzo, not yet, that would be too much of a risk. But she couldn't leave his question unanswered. He had to trust her, and in that case, he had to know why he should.

She started to panic a little, but then she looked more closely at his eyes and... They reminded her of something.

“ _There are few things I know as surely as this: you are the kindest, gentlest, most virtuous being I have ever met. You have no evil in you whatsoever. And I know this because I, Puss in Boots, am the greatest judge of character who ever lived!”_

Puss has always believed in others. So it was about time someone believed in him.

She smiled tenderly and carefully held out her other hand, pressing it against his cheek and stubbornly ignoring how he tried to pull away from her at first, as if the gentle gesture was burning his skin.

“ _Because,_ ” she said. “I’m the greatest judge of character who ever lived. I know you have a good heart. _Please_. Let me help you put it back together.”

He looked down, and gently grabbed the wrist of her hand, the one he tugged aggressively at earlier, that she held on his cheek, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“What?” she asked, though her attention was more focused on his gentle touch. She _knew_ it. Puss just pretended to be an arrogant jerk. He was _gentle_ , he was _good_. He _was_ the one she loved. She just had to help him a little. Just like it used to be.

“Being so... _understanding_ and... patient." he peered up a little, his eyes shining beautifully in the dark around them. "Saying things that make me want to...”

For a few seconds they looked into each other’s eyes, and the distant and impossible suddenly became near, possible and inevitable. He sighed. He felt defeated. Or rather, as if someone had joined his fight against his own demons. As if someone were fighting for him. As if she let him rest.

“I am pretty much a disaster.” he admitted, completely ignoring his earlier unfinished sentence. “Are you _sure_ you want to get into this?”

She shrugged gently.

“Well,” she started, smiling shyly at him. “I _do_ like a challenge.”

“But why?” he asked. “What makes you want to help me?”

Dulcinea wanted to kiss him more and more with each passing second, make him stop asking her those stupid, meaningless questions.

“I heard you want to change the world for the better. You want to help people. We _both_ want to help people.” she choked out after a moment, trying to control the trembling in her voice. “I can’t let anyone with such a goal go downhill.”

They both smiled. The feeling he felt at that moment was... good. It was nice. He looked into her eyes and saw something he had longed for a long time, although he himself did not know what it was. He didn't know if he could trust her, but his heart was racing every time she touched him and every time he was next to her, he felt... home. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but that was one of the reasons he ran away from that beach. He was afraid of it because the last time he felt like this... he was in San Ricardo. Would it be possible that she offered him something that was just as important to him as his hometown? Something that would surpass his sole and most important purpose?

As he thought of that they both finally noticed how close their faces were and what position they were in. They quickly moved away from each other, clearing their throats and nervously adjusting their clothes. She smiled at him awkwardly, and Puss, though very hesitantly, returned the gesture.

“So...” she started, but had nothing to say, really. Puss glanced at her and bit his lip.

“I am...” he sighed heavily. “ _sorry,_ I was so cold to you earlier.” he looked away, embarrassed. “It is just the first time in years since I… You were just so… _nice_ and...”

She gave him a funny look.

“Do you really think everyone who is nice to you secretly wants to murder you?”

Puss shook his head as if he couldn't believe her naiveté.

“You would be surprised.” he laughed, but when he noticed that instead of laughing as well, she was staring at him with horror, he tried to mask his laugh with a cough. “I used to be more… _outgoing_ , but it was long time ago… I am different now.”

“ _Different_ doesn’t mean _evil_.” she said confidently and her heart rose in her chest at the sight of his smile.

“You would not reject even the worst monster, would you?”

Dulcinea adjusted his hat on his head.

“Sometimes all the monster needs is time.” she said, and he was _listening_. “Time to figure out who he is, who he wants to be and where he wants to go.”

He looked at her with a roguish smile.

“You know unexpectedly much about monsters."

She smiled sweetly, folding her hands on her lap.

“I’ve met quite a few in the past.”

“And if you…” he stuttered, raising his head but glancing down. “And if you would like to meet me tomorrow, then… I do not want you to feel compelled by any means, but...” he hesitated. He glimpsed up and looked into her expectant eyes. She looked at him with trust and something else he couldn't quite read. “Maybe it is worth having a friend after all.”

Real living fire flooded her chest. For a moment she didn't know what to say. Puss looked at her, his pupils dilated in the darkness of the night, and under that gaze she felt like a mouse that he was about to throw himself at and devour whole. His eyes were amazing. So... _unique_. Even though Dulcinea was also a cat, she was significantly different from her friend in many ways. She often explained this by the fact that she had always lived in a city isolated from the world, safe and sound, not needing her feline instincts, which she simply lost over time, if they ever existed in her at all. She didn't have his predatory instinct, she didn't chase yarn, and she wasn't very territorial. Her eyes didn't react that much to the amount of light or the sudden surge of adrenaline. She wasn't growling or meowing. Even their teeth were different. Her fangs were not so big and sharp. Not suitable for hunting. Puss was a predator. And she was herself. Something else. A cat and not a cat. Something _like_ a cat. A Tulpa.

Exactly. _Tulpa_.

She was a magical creature that Sino created for his own needs. The same Sino, who immediately after Puss disappeared, ordered everyone not to contact him under any circumstances and not to try to look for him. Because he was never supposed to come back to town again. And now Dulcinea felt a cold sweat on her forehead. Because _what_ was she _doing?_ Exactly what Sino – the creator of San Lorenzo, _her_ creator – said _not to do_. She thought she had decided a long time ago, but only now, _right now,_ in the middle of the cold, dark desert, has the moment come for her to choose. That she would choose San Lorenzo, her home, her friends, her family, or Puss in Boots, her beloved friend who was _also_ her family. That she would choose the town and a hidden life for eternity, the routine and security, or choose _him_ , though she did not know what to expect from making that choice. She could choose carefully and wisely, as her common sense dictated, or choose love and risk as her heart prompted.

Green eyes waited.

He wouldn't hesitate. He did not listen to reason. His heart told him what to do and he always followed its voice.

But what if she had chosen wrong? What then? Would she be ready to experience the same nightmare again? Run away from the end of the world again? Watch him disappear again? She wasn't made for this, _not_ for _this_. Her job was _to protect_ , if not the Arcanum, then the children, if not the children, then the whole town, if not the town, then Puss. Because that was her purpose. To... _To_...

“ _You had no choice. I created you to protect the Arcanum.”_

To protect...

“ _Am I going to fade away like Cleevil and Orange?”_

“ _No. You are not like the others, Dulcinea. You are not just a tool. You are a real, living being with your own destiny…”_

And her destiny was to...

“ _...a destiny which is not yet fulfilled.”_

She has to make her own choice. She _gets_ to make her own choice.

And she has to take the risk, because if she doesn't, she won't forgive herself for the rest of her life.

“I’d love to.” she finally said and felt her insides melt and was glad she was sitting, because her legs felt like cotton wool when he smiled so sweetly. It was a really small smile, but she was grateful for it anyway, because she knew how much it cost him to do it.

“On one condition.”

Puss raised one eyebrow but let her speak. Dulcinea smiled gently, almost shyly and folded her hands at her chest.

“Please,” she said softly. “take your mask off when you speak to me.”

He opened his mouth, slightly surprised at her request. He would, however, nod his head. He ran his fingers slowly over the skin around his neck and found the edge of the cloth protecting his face. He hesitated for a second. She looked at him expectantly, her pupils dilated, framed by a wonderful rim of sapphire. He swallowed, feeling as if the activity he was performing was an extremely intimate act. And to some extent it was. Usually, he would only remove his mask with those, who knew him anyway or with his lovers, but only in dark, secluded rooms when they were too busy to look too closely at his face. And now? Now he wasn't sure if he should do this. Did he trust her enough? Either way, she already knew his identity…

But he was aware that the mask at this point became a kind of metaphor. Was he able to reveal his true self? Show her what he has been struggling with for so many years? Let her touch and explore his already fragile soul? He didn't know her, how could he know what her intentions were? What could she really be hiding under that perfect, innocent face? On the other hand, he thought, every person he had known long enough and whom he should _theoretically_ trust did not make him feel as comfortable and safe as he felt with her. Was he able to take the risk? Jump into deep water without being sure to emerge from the cold, dark sea depths of her blue eyes?

He stated that he had no choice actually. He could choose her and finally let go of what had kept him awake every night for thirty-six (feline) years that made him phobic, that gave him problems with aggression, insomnia, panic attacks, and thoughts, _terrible thoughts_ that were devastating him from the inside. He could choose her or lose himself slowly in this damn madness.

With a quick movement of his hand, he removed the mask, holding the hat in the other.

The crisp, cold air hit his head and ears, and he covered them quickly with his hat. He took a deep breath through his nose. I have had enough, he thought to himself.

_I have had enough._

Dulcinea smiled with satisfaction that she tried to hide behind the clever commentary.

“See? You’re not _that_ ugly.”

Puss lowered his head, smiling fondly. Usually, he would feel resentful after such a comment, but now... He was glad she said that.

“I will take that as a compliment.” he laughed lightly.

“Thank you for doing that.” she said quietly, looking deeply into his eyes. “I know how much it costs you.”

Puss moved his tongue in his mouth and looked gently around. Eventually, however, he sighed like a defeated warrior and smiled charmingly.

“I can never say _no_ , to a woman.” he chuckled and Dulcinea raised her eyebrows.

“We’ll see about that.” she winked, as she jumped off the bar stool. “See you tomorrow then, _señor saviour._ ”

She dashed off into the darkness before Puss could reply. He chuckled softly to himself as he watched Dulcinea slowly disappear from his sight, and the sound of her horse's hooves also died away in the endless sea of sand. He shook his head.

“ _What have I gotten myself into?”_

He heard a huff. He looked to the side at Babieca, who stood right next to him and looked at him meaningfully. If he could speak, Puss knew exactly what he would say.

“What?” he shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are _you_ staring at?”

The horse snorted, and Puss could have sworn he saw the shadow of a mocking smile on his face. He rolled his eyes.

“My own horse mocks me.” he said accusingly, jumping on his horse’s back and moving ahead, but neither the steed nor the rider stared ahead, too busy talking. “I mean, seriously, do you not think you should be a little nicer to me after all this time?” Babieca snorted. “There is no need to use foul language, this is just a suggestion.”

“If _that's_ what you call searching for a legendary town, then no wonder you're having a hard time finding it.”

Babieca neighed loudly and stood on his hind legs, kicking furiously, when Puss meowed aggressively and hissed as his fur reared up. He was breathing sharply while trying to calm his stallion down and looked uncertainly at the man in the red coat, who was looking at him expectantly and extremely indifferently.

“Warlock.”

“Kitty, my old _friend_...” he put emphasis on the last word, which made Puss shut his eyes in irritation.

“What do you want?” he snarled, stroking Babieca's neck and at the same time trying to hold him in place. “I thought I made it clear to you that you were to stop following me.”

“You didn't notice me.” the thief said as if he hadn't felt the obvious indignation in the cat's voice at all. He smiled ambiguously. “You _dog_.” he chuckled disgustingly. “You see the girl and you lose your head. I wouldn't expect this from you.”

Puss turned his head away.

“ _Just do not lose your temper”_ , he told himself.

“But I must admit, she's pretty cute.” the man continued as if nothing had happened. He took one apple from the cart standing nearby and rubbed it against the fabric of his trousers. “What did she want?” he asked, chewing loudly, after taking the first bite of the fruit.

Puss turned his head, avoiding the black eyes.

“Nothing.” he shrugged and gently looked over his shoulder. “We were just talking.”

“ _About_ …?”

Puss turned sharply to face him.

“And why do _you_ care?” he growled.

Warlock laughed and raised his hands above his head in surrender. Puss rolled his eyes. He cleared his throat as he started to play with Babieca's mane and quickly changed the subject.

“Any news on San Lorenzo?” he asked in an undertone, not wanting anyone to hear what he was saying, though there was hardly anyone around them, only the bartender who had just returned to his booth after Puss snarled at him a while ago.

The man turned his back to him and began to look at the swords lying on the table nearby.

“Nothing much...” he sighed. “And you? Did you find any clue?”

“Not yet.” he muttered, looking in the direction where Dulcinea had departed a few minutes ago. He thought about what she told him.

“ _You can continue with your worthless life, or you can become someone who matters.”_

“Zyrian,” he began without looking in the direction of the man, who gazed up at the mention of his first name. “what do you _really_ want? You know _my_ purpose. But what do _you_ need the money for? Why are you working with me?”

There was silence for a few seconds. The man clearly did not expect such a question.

“...I want to help you.”

“You said that once.” Puss said, still not looking at him. “And I do not need help all that much. If necessary, I could rob the entire market and no one would notice I was there.”

“Yes, I’m certain of it.” Warlock admitted and came closer leaning sideways on Babieca's rump, to which the horse snorted in annoyance. “Exactly why I knew you were the right person to start working with. But if you don’t need me, why can’t you just run away? You’re pretty good at it.”

Puss didn’t answer.

Warlock leaned closer to him.

“Because you _know_ , there is more in it than paying a debt in San Ricardo. You know it's not enough to make you happy. So that you finally feel relieved.” Warlock replied for him, smiling in that cunning, disgusting way of his. “You know that to achieve your _real_ goal you will need information, only _I_ can provide for you. And then an army. Where do you get an army from?” he asked, and Puss raised an eyebrow. “From strong allies. And you don't know anyone as smart as me who wouldn't want to kill you. So, here we are!” he finished enthusiastically, biting the apple again.

Puss listened attentively to his words, all the time staring in the direction in which Dulcinea had just left. Slowly he analyzed in his head what they both told him.

“ _You don’t know anyone who wouldn’t want to kill you.”_

“ _I heard you want to change the world for the better. We both want to help people.”_

“You are right...” he said slowly, then put on his trademark smirk and laughed softly. “I do not know what came over me with such thoughts. Of course I know what you want.”

Warlock frowned at his unusual choice of words. Puss seemed to know something _he_ didn't.

“You do...” he said hesitantly. “But I can see _your_ priorities have changed a bit.” Puss looked over to him with a cold expression. “What do you want, that you do not have, Puss in Boots?”

The ginger feline turned and looked ahead, glancing around the desert, as if trying to indicate the direction in which he should go. He hesitated for a second, but finally decided.

“At the moment peace and quiet.” he said calmly, and Warlock widened his eyes in surprise. He opened his mouth to answer, but Puss cut him off. “No need to seize the last word, my _friend_. I will assume it was something _clever_.”

He tapped his heel on Babieca's side and the horse moved forward. He couldn't help but smirk when he heard no answer behind him. Yes, not only Warlock in the two of them could be clever.

“You think you're _so smart_ , don't you?”

“Oh, you are still here?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, I might think you don’t like me.”

Puss stopped. He snorted incredulously and glared at the criminal over his shoulder.

“And what makes you think I _like you?_ ” he turned towards him and walked two steps on Babieca's back, standing on his rump. “I am not one of people like _you,_ Zyrian. Gold is not the most important thing for me. My honor is.”

For a moment, Warlock just stared at him from below with glittering eyes. He looked like he was really impressed... Until he burst out laughing a second later.

Puss frowned as he watched the man laugh as if struck. Irritated, he crossed his arms over his chest and Babieca rolled his eyes. It took a while for him to calm down and when he looked at Puss, he wiped a tear from his eye.

“S-so… you...” he stammered out, trying to catch his breath. “You... _steal_ and-and you live like a _thief_ , just to prove to everyone that _you are_ _actually_ _not a thief_. Am I the only one who can see a complete absurdity here? I mean, think about it, kitty, it’s hilarious!” he chuckled again, and Puss looked away. He was wrong. He was wrong, he was _wrong_ , Puss was _not_ like him. He was _not_. He _couldn’t_ be... “Just admit it turns you on. Constant threat, escape from justice, fight for survival every day! You _are_ like me. You just have to stop denying it and pretend to be some honourable carcass. Don’t talk like those fancy heroes, you’re not.”

Puss clenched his fists tightly. He wanted to tuck his knees under his chin, put his hands over his ears, and start rocking back and forth, only muttering under his breath...

“ _I am not like this, I am not like this, I am not like this, I am NOT!”_

But he couldn't show any weakness. Not in front of him.

“You are _mad_.”

“Damn right I am!” he admitted with a smug smile. “Only crazy people are worth something. You should know.”

“Warlock, I swear this...” Puss hissed through gritted teeth. “The next time I tell you to _shut your_ _damn_ _mouth_ , I will not be doing this with words.”

The man smiled to himself.

“Alright.” he whispered, brushing some dust off his clothes. “Then go right ahead. Nothing's keeping you here, right?”

Puss took a shaky breath and quickly turned, wanting to flee that place as quickly as possible. As he galloped away, he heard another mocking scream behind him.

“The light can have you for now! The darkness follows those that walk in it’s shade! _You_ _can’t_ _outrun it!"_

He covered his ears with his hands.

^^^

Her heart was racing and she couldn't stop smiling.

She succeeded. She was one small step closer to getting her friend back. She couldn't believe it was all really happening, she pinched her hand several times along the way, but she didn't wake up from this beautiful dream. Only this time it wasn't a dream.

On the way to San Lorenzo, she wondered how she would explain her sudden disappearances to everyone. She couldn't reveal that she was secretly seeing Puss. She was afraid of the residents' reaction to such news. Of course, they would all be glad that their hero was alive and well and that he was so close, but more than the desire to see him again, they were overwhelmed by the fear of the end of the world. Nobody wanted to risk that much, and neither did Dulcinea. But she couldn't just ignore the opportunity to come back to him. _Oh_ , if only it was somehow possible to restore his memories!

She frowned at the idea. It was actually pretty stupid and dangerous and a little crazy, but if Puss was able to save them more than once thanks to such ideas, why wouldn't she try?

“Dulcinea!”

She turned abruptly at the sound of a familiar voice. She saw a white mustang galloping towards her, the reason for her recent dilemmas on its back. She looked nervously towards the hidden city. She wasn't that close yet, maybe he wouldn't know where she was going…

“Puss?” she asked, and _oh_ , how _much_ pleasure it felt to feel his name on her tongue again. “ _What_...” she briefly looked back. “What are you doing here? Were you following me?”

Puss caught up with her. He was breathing heavily, his eyes shifting. He looked like he was running away from something.

“I _do_ need your help.”


	6. A job for a tulpa

“It’s bad, it’s bad, it’s very really bad!”

Pajuna rolled her eyes, as the mayor locked himself in his barrel, screaming in a high-pitched voice.

She sighed heavily, leaning her elbows on the table in front of her and trailed her eyes over all the townspeople gathered in her cantina. There was a pervasive panic as the Duchess and Cleevil just walked onto the square, and Pajuna seemed to be the only sane person in town at the time.

“Yes, it's very nice that you are glad to see us.” the Duchess said sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest.

The cow lowered her head and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the omnipresent noise and collect her thoughts. Alright.

She sighed heavily.

 _Alright_.

The Duchess and Cleevil got into San Lorenzo. It was an obvious fact. They stood there, Duchess a little offended that no one rushed to greet her, but they _stood_ in the _cantina_. They just walked in through the door during lunchtime and brought silence with them, followed by panic. Okay. Panic may be too strong a word. Rather, a shock would be more appropriate. Disbelief. A year has passed since that fateful night, and until today, there was no trace of the Duchess nor their little goblin friend. Everyone resigned to the fact that they would rather not come back, and now they just... _walked in_ , demanding a meal and a nice welcome.

“ _Arty!_ ” the Duchess exclaimed, noticing the alchemist at one of the tables, picking something at another macrame piece. “Aren't you happy that I'm back?”

“You were gone!? _Wha-wha-_ when?!” he asked in surprise, scratching his head.

No one spoke for a moment, until suddenly the woman sighed and pulled him into a hug.

“Oh, Arty! Never change!”

Pajuna rolled her eyes from under her fringe and cleared her throat to attract the witch's attention.

“I’m sorry, but” she started when the Duchess finally let go of her boyfriend and walked a few steps towards her. “what are you doing here? It's not that we're not happy, but” she straightened and crossed her arms over her chest, wanting to appear unfazed so as not to cause real panic between the townspeople. “it’s been a year. Why now? And what were you doing all this time?”

The Duchess sighed heavily and pulled over the chair Eames was about to sit on, which resulted in him falling quite painfully to the floor. Cleevil sat down on a stool by the bar.

“It wasn't easy for me.” the witch said in a low voice. “When Sino sent everyone away that night and I found myself in my residence, I wanted to come back here as soon as possible. But I remembered that if everything Puss did had never happened,” her voice cracked a little at his name, but she stubbornly ignored that. “then I had no power anymore. That's why I first went back to my sisters' castle and _believe me_ , it took me a while to deal with them...”

“And I ended up on the outskirts of the last town they kicked me out of before I came here.” the goblette said. “I thought it would be the best to go to the place where I met the Duchess. That's why I went to the forest where she lived. She was waiting for me.”

“ _Wha_ -but,” señora Zapata suddenly stuttered. “the nearest town is a long way away. How did you possibly...?”

Cleevil shrugged, a satisfied smirk visible on her lips.

“Hey, I did it once. No big deal. Second time was only easier.” she waved her hand and rested her elbows on the counter behind her. “I stowed away and somehow I managed! Puss taught me a lot of useful things-”

“I don't know if Sino would be pleased to see what is going on here.” Zapata cut her off, not ready for any more mention of the ginger tom.

As if on cue, all faces (including the mayor who looked uncertain from his barrel) turned to Artephius, his hands resting on his narrow hips and looking annoyed.

“Yeah, if he had only been here, we could have asked him!” he said reproachfully and lowered his arms loosely along his body. “Loafer.”

Pajuna huffed lightly at Zapata’s expression.

“Sooo…” Toby spoke hesitantly, playing with his fingers, and everyone in the cantina looked at him. “If Cleevil is back… and the Duchess is back… does that mean… could it be that-”

“Toby, no.” Zapata cut him off. “We have already talked about it. The _world_ decided about it. Puss in the Boots has no place in San Lorenzo.”

A year.

A year has passed since any city resident used the full name of their former protector so openly and in such a circle.

The woman leaned against the back of the chair she was sitting on and covered her face with her hand. Everyone fell silent. It might seem that this was the end of the conversation, but suddenly Zapata sprang up slightly in her chair and turned to Pajuna, although the question that fell from her lips was addressed to everyone.

“Has anyone seen Dulcinea?"

^^^

She slipped into the market very slowly. The middle of the night, darkness and emptiness all around.

“ _That's good,”_ she thought. This was what she was counting on.

After her conversation with Puss, she wasn't sure if she would even be able to talk to someone from the city. Her thoughts went crazy, leaving not a single moment to concentrate. Puss said he needed her. That he needed her help. After so long, he finally reached out to her and asked her to...

_Stay. Please._

His whisper still hummed in her ears, and she couldn't help feeling like it was going straight to her heart. She would be lying if she said she wasn't afraid of what their interaction might cause. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't turn away from him, even as he spoke reproachfully, shouted and looked at her with contempt. Proof of that was, for example, that she had followed him to the Thieves' Market even after he laughed at her and left her alone on the beach. On the beach from which she had so many wonderful memories. Her heart was beating only for him, and although he didn't know it, Dulcinea couldn’t simply throw away her feelings.

She jumped off the back of her chestnut mare and led her where other horses stood, and they snorted softly at the sight of her. She silenced them quickly with a few lumps of sugar and slowly began to head to the orphanage, hoping she could slip into her room unnoticed.

She paused in half a step and opened her eyes in horror at the sound of hooves behind her and a very familiar voice with a distinctive accent.

“Hey, lassie.” Pajuna said.

She closed her eyes and curled her shoulders at that. She breathed softly and slowly turned to the owner of the cantina.

“Hello, Pajuna.” she whispered back.

The cow crossed her arms, but she didn't look at her with reproach or anger. She looked as if she was worried.

“You've been gone all day.” she said after a moment, hesitantly taking a step closer to Dulcinea. “Everyone was worried.”

The she-cat bit her lip, feeling some big lump in her throat. She knew Pajuna was about to start asking where she was, why, and _with whom_ , and she had yet to come up with any excuse. She knew she wasn’t good at lying, so she decided to tell at least part of the truth, hoping the slight trembling of her voice wouldn't give her away.

“I...” she stuttered. “I went to the lake and I think... I think I lost track of time.”

“Aye, I can see that.” she responded, but continued to study her with such a look that made Dulcinea shudder. Instinctively, she wanted to run her hands over her shoulders, but when she felt the slippery material of the coat under her pads, she froze. She felt a cold sweat against her temples and her fingers began to tremble. She looked up uncertainly at Pajuna.

“Whose cape is that?” she asked.

Dulcinea's mouth was dry. She felt like she was about to throw up, her lower lip began to tremble. No one could know she had seen Puss, not yet, _not yet-_

She opened her mouth to stutter something out, though she wasn't sure what to say herself, but unexpectedly the cow beat her to it.

“It’s alright.” Pajuna assured her. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

Dulcinea's eyes widened at this. This was not what she expected. But she decided not to pursue the topic, believing that it could only harm herself. So she decided to remain silent.

They both stood in an empty market square, which was overwhelming with its size during the night. No sound broke the perfect silence. Listening to it, Dulcinea felt at least uncomfortable. She shuddered barely noticeably. How could she live in such silence? The spell that protected the city effectively blocked the calming noise of the wind in the desert all around and suddenly she realized how terrible it was. How was it even possible to sleep in such silence?

“Ya know, lassie, I...” Pajuna stuttered. She looked down at her and sighed after a moment of just staring into her eyes. “I know what it means to suffer from a broken heart.”

Dulcinea closed her eyes so Pajuna would not notice her rolling them. She did not want to underestimate the feelings of her friend, but she knew exactly what she meant, and Dulcinea had no strength to pretend any longer that she had no idea where Puss in Boots was. She just wanted to go back to her room and sleep for a few hours (and scream a little into the pillow first, because _seriously_ _?_ Couldn't she tell him she knew who he was _after_ he kissed her?). But the cow was too busy with her own thoughts to pay attention to it.

“I just wanted you to know that,” she looked back to her blue eyes and Dulcinea felt a little awkward, as if she was staring at her soul and knew all her secrets exactly. “that your life comes down to your decisions. If you change decisions, you change your life.”

Dulcinea had no idea what she meant. She didn't know if she was trying to subtly convey to her that she _knew_ , or maybe she just wanted to cheer her up.

In any case, she understood that she had to flee that place quickly if she did not want her secret to be revealed. So she said she was very tired, and Pajuna didn't stop her as she made her way briskly towards the orphanage. She breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the door to the building behind her, and as quickly as possible pulled off the cloak that smelled of smoke and fire.

Immediately (trying to move very quietly so as not to wake up the other residents of the orphanage) she locked herself in her room, deciding that she had to be more careful in the future...

Toby heard Dulcinea run up the stairs, and then the door to her room closed.

He quietly got up from his bed, trying not to wake his sleeping friends by accident, and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door very carefully behind him. Breathing shallowly, he made his way down the dark corridor to a remote, uninhabited room. Once at his door he looked back to make sure no one was following him. For a moment he thought he heard footsteps behind him, but when nothing happened after a few seconds of cocking his ears, he shrugged and pulled the handle.

The room was dark and dusty. Toby picked up a little candle from the small table by the door and lit it with matches he'd stolen from the kitchen long ago, when no one was watching. The small room was immediately flooded with a soft, orange light, revealing stacked chairs, a broken bed, and a wardrobe, all covered with white sheets. The pale moonlight leaked into the room through a small window, making it possible to see dust particles floating in the air.

Toby carefully placed the candle back on the table from which he had taken it. He knelt down and bent under the covered bed, pulling out from under it items very important to him, namely...

A small notebook and a pencil.

He smiled slightly to himself, feeling the characteristic leather cover in his hand, and stood up, walking to the wall next to the table on which the candle stood and leaning against it.

He opened the sketchbook on a random page and found a drawing of Puss fighting bandits. He didn't know exactly how his drawings didn't disappear when Puss left the city, but he was very happy about it. It was the only thing he had left of Puss. His gift for his maybe-birthday.

He clearly remembered his own shock when a few days after _that_ night he found a notebook on the floor next to his bed, with all the pictures of Puss inside, even the one that had depicted them as twins. He did not want to show the find to anyone because he knew what he would be told to do. What would señora Zapata do. She would have made him throw his notebook away, and Toby couldn't even think about it. That's why he decided to hide the sketchbook in a place where almost no one had ever looked.

He flipped through the pages unconsciously, keeping his eye on his favourite drawings a little longer, until he came across one in which Puss was giving Dulcinea a lovely red rose.

Toby felt sad and perhaps even a little angry with Dulcinea. He knew he shouldn't, but he'd overheard her and Pajuna's conversation, as well as señora Zapata's earlier conversation with the cantina owner. He couldn't understand how Dulcinea could find a boyfriend. Of course he knew she was very pretty and kind and smart and that she was the coolest person in the world, but it wasn't about _her_. It was about _Puss_. And of _course_ Toby wanted Dulcinea to be happy, she _deserved_ it. He loved her very much and wanted well for her, but... He felt terrible thinking that one day she might bring some... _cat_ to town, who would not be a hero _n_ _or_ a legend, wouldn’t tell bedtime stories, wouldn’t allow to be cuddled even when he was tired, wouldn’t play dodgeball or hide and seek, whip chocolate-papaya punch, and let him eat cookies before dinner secretly from Dulcinea if he only brought him two with chocolate-

A cat that _wasn't Puss_.

He wanted to cry when he thought about it. All this time he had been hoping that it was all just some strange dream from which he would wake up and when he went outside, he would see Puss lying somewhere on the roof or some other warm, well-lit place during one of his naps. But it was not a dream. And when reality began to overwhelm him, he went out into the garden. But over time, many people started joining him, which he didn't like at all. Then he started coming here. To a room hardly anyone has ever thought of. And he remembered. He thought about what Puss would say to him if he saw him, and at times like this he always came up with the one sentence he always repeated.

“ _We are friends, Toby. I know, I can count on you and you should know, you can always count on me. From this day forth, it shall be known, never alone, always together. Toby and Puss, like brothers, forever.”_

He missed him.

He missed his brother.

^^^

It was hard for her to sleep.

Sweat poured on her every now and then, she thought she couldn’t breath from the ho air, and a moment later she was almost dying of the cold. Her head ached mercilessly. She felt as if something inside was _pounding_ against her skull and throbbing in her temples. Several times she felt that she might be sick from the pain. She tried to get out of bed and call for help, but she couldn't get a word out of her throat, where a huge lump formed, and her legs, shaking like jelly, refused to cooperate. She was breathing hard, twirling on the bed in agony. She had no idea what was happening to her and was terribly afraid. She decided to try for the last time to get up and go to Zapata's room, but her trembling hands buckled under her, causing her to lose her balance, falling off the bed, hitting her head on the bedside table in the process, causing quite a stir. The last thing she heard before closing her eyes was the slam of the door. She lost consciousness.

When she opened her eyes, all she could see was white.

She lay motionless for a moment, listening to the silence. She was lying in a pale fog, although she had never seen such a fog in her life. The surroundings were completely obscured by it, although it hardly formed into any surroundings. The surface she lay on was also white, but ahe couldn't tell if it was cold or warm, rough or smooth – it just existed.

She sat down. Instinctively she ran her hands over her shoulders. Her dress was gone and her tulpa armour replaced it. She frowned.

She got up hesitantly and looked around. She had the feeling that she was back in the Realm of Shades, but nowhere could she see even the outlines of San Lorenzo, or Orange that would greet her like last time.

But something in the omnipresent silence, something close, in the fog, thrashed and softly whined.

She turned slowly in place, and the surroundings seemed to be born in her eyes. A huge open space, bright and clean, much larger than the desert around her town. Completely empty. She was there alone. All alone. Only she and…

She shuddered as she let out the breath she was holding, and steam appeared in front of her mouth. It got cold. She saw it. She saw what was making these strange noises. It was a large, black cloud, twisting endlessly like a snake, collapsing into itself and expanding again. She felt her breathing quicken, and her body and mind felt a fear of something she didn't know, but something that was certainly dangerous.

Hypnotized, she approached the black cloud, unable to take her eyes off the spectacle of the chaotic curling of this strange creature, which seemed to be calling her to itself. She narrowed her eyes, almost seeing a face in it...

“Don't come any closer.”

She turned abruptly at the sound of a familiar voice, snapped out of that strange trance. With a brisk, springy step, straightened and dressed in a flowing, navy blue robe, the creator of San Lorenzo was heading towards her.

“S… _Sino?_ ” she asked hesitantly, and the great mage smiled kindly and nodded.

“Dulcinea,” he spread his arms, his staff in one hand. “Welcome. Follow me. We don't have much time.”

Dulcinea, slightly bewildered, followed him, away from the whistling cloud, straight into unknown, endless whiteness.

She caught up with him and looked closely at his face. His gray, almost silver hair and long beard, piercing hazel eyes and a long, straight nose. Everything about him was exactly as she remembered from that day, when so much had changed in her life, and yet...

She breathed softly, once again looking around.

“Where are we? Is this a dream? What are you doing here? All I remember is that I passed out, I think...”

“You did.” he agreed, nodding his head, but still didn't look at her. “And you know where we are. Look in your memory.”

Dulcinea frowned at his words and mysterious tone. She did not speak, however, and they travelled some distance in the infinite white nothingness. She tried to distract herself from the haos in her mind, looking for something interesting, that could ring any bells in her memory with her eyes, but the scenery around them didn't change a bit. White everywhere. She looked expectantly at the mage's face, waiting for answers to at least one of the thousand questions that haunted her mind.

“This,” he started suddenly, as if he were reading her thoughts. He waved his hand at the endless void around them. “is Valenya. A mythical place from which all the magical energy of the world comes from. A place from where great wizards like me draw their power. This is where you and your sisters were born.”

Dulcinea's eyes widened, once again staring around at the blinding white that stung her eyes, but this time in a completely different way than before. Here she was created.

Or wasn’t.

“Sino,” she started and he looked down at her, his expression patient and kind. “is this real? Or is it just my dream?”

The mage smiled again and crouched, so he could look her straight in the eye.

“This is a dream.” he admitted.

She put her ears back, dissapointed. However, Sino hasn’t finished yet.

“ _But_ it _is_ real.”

She frowned again. How could something that was just happening in her head be _real_ _?_ She didn't know if he could read the question from her eyes, or if he could read her mind, but he immediately began to explain what it was about.

“You see, Dulcinea, I once said that you are not just a tool.” He got up and started walking again in the direction he knew only. Dulcinea immediately followed him, listening carefully to his words. “And it is true. But when I sent Puss back from San Lorenzo that night, your mission as tulpa was not over yet.”

“Does it have anything to do with Puss?” she blurted out, before she could bite her tongue.

Sino turned to her and looked at her with an expression that was hard to read.

“Although it is hard to believe, _yes_.”

Dulcinea was surprised not for the first time at his words. She frowned, not guessing the slightest bit of what he might be talking about. But it had something to do with Puss, and she had to find out what it was.

“ _I knew it was no coincidence that we met again that day”,_ she thought to herself.

“You are aware that I created three Tulpas.” he moved his cane and three figures materialized out of nowhere in front of them. Orange, Cleevil and herself. “Orange, Green and White. I have assigned each of you a specific task.” He pointed to the first figure. “The oldest, Orange, as you call her, was tasked with locking up the Bloodwolf in the Realm of Shades.” He put his hand on Cleevil's head. “Green’s purpose, or if you prefer _Cleevil’s_ , was to find and rejoin my two halves if the need arose...” Finally, his hand hung over the head of _her_ replica, which, eyes closed, was levitating a few centimeters above the ground. “And you...” he looked down at her. “You were to defend Arcanum and the town. That's why you felt that strong connection with San Lorenzo. I created you to protect it.”

She reached out to touch the cheek of her mirror image, but when she almost did, all three figures blurred in the air as quickly as they appeared. Uncertainly, she looked up at her creator, who continued talking.

“This… _dream_ , as you called it,” he turned his back to her. “I also recorded and encoded it in your head. But I did it much later. I did it the day I turned back time.”

Dulcinea’s eyes widened.

“ _What?_ ” she asked shocked. “So… You gave me a new task? What for?”

The man sighed heavily and moved his hand slightly, and a second later a pale, slightly blurred image of the night he changed history appeared before them. Dulcinea took a step closer, looking at her own tear-stained face and Puss kissing her goodbye. She felt a twinge in her heart at the memory.

“After Puss disappeared and you all started going back to where you were the year before,” Sino started, and she turned her face, looking back at him. He, however, was staring intently at the scene in front of them, so she too looked at the visible flashback. “I had a moment to cast a spell and look into the future. After I saw what you were forced to endure and how everyone suffered, I decided that I would never make such a mistake again…” he sighed suddenly appearing very tired and old. “But only then I realized, what a huge mistake I have already made...”

Hearing that sadness and regret in his voice, a shiver of unease ran down her spine.

“Sino...” she started hesitantly. “What did you see?”

He sighed. He rubbed his face with his hand and looked at her with exhausted, cloudy eyes. He turned and with his staff he made a circle in the air that soon became some kind of... a portal?

“Better if you see it for yourself.”

She swallowed hard. Even though her hands were shaking and her knees were buckling more and more with every step she took, Dulcinea walked hesitantly to the edge of the magical passage. She looked back. Sino stood and looked at her, waiting for her to go in. She sighed through her nose and, closing her eyes, stepped through the portal, which disappeared as soon as the great mage passed through it too.

Dulcinea frowned, trying to discern where they were. The desert around her felt familiar in some way. The sky was covered with heavy, black clouds that thundered and did not let a single joyful ray of sunshine pass through. She turned back...

And her heart skipped a beat.

San Lorenzo. Exposed, on a hill, completely visible.

And _destroyed_.

“No… _No_ …!” she whispered terrified, putting your hands to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears. She looked at the mage beside her in disbelief, but he merely lowered his head, resigned. “Take me there.” she demanded, reaching out her hand to him when she managed to calm down a little and swallow her tears.

He looked like he didn't want to do it, but he obediently grabbed her hand and suddenly they appeared right in the center of the town’s square.

Or rather, what was left of it.

The fountain was completely gone, and there was only a pile of wet debris and mud in its place. All the buildings, the inn, even the _orphanage_ were razed to the ground. Only a few pieces of the walls have survived. The fire, which had dimmed a bit, consumed the remains of walls and wood. Her stomach came up to her throat as she, taking a step forward, stepped into a puddle.

 _Red_ puddle.

And in it Esme's teddy bear, dirty with mud and blood.

A muffled scream left her mouth as she jerked back. Tears filled her eyes as she looked around. There was no one there. There was no sign of the inhabitants. _Where was everyone?!_

Eventually, her frightened gaze found the only place untouched by fire and destruction. It was the treasurehouse. The ornate door swung wide open, and she noticed another stain of red on the steps leading to the entrance.

Dulcinea swallowed again and headed for the vault. All she could hear was the silence that terrified her. But she had no time to be afraid, she had to find out what beast, what... what _monster_ destroyed her beloved-

“Puss?”

He was standing there alone. At the foot of the huge statue of Sino, which glowed red at him with it’s diamond eye. He had his back to her, dressed all in black, but without his mask, and hadn't even noticed her call.

“Puss?” she tried again, coming step closer. “Puss, what-”

“He won't hear you.” Sino said suddenly, gaining her attention. “This is just a vision of the future. It hasn't happened yet, we're not really here. We can only watch.”

She heard the click of her own heels, though she didn't even take a step. She turned to where the sound was coming from and noticed... _herself._

Dulcinea stood at the threshold of the vault. Her dress was torn and dirty with something dark and sticky that dripped to the white floor around her. She was breathing hard, looking at Puss' back with an expression that Dulcinea had never seen on her own face before.

Suddenly Puss spoke up.

He turned to face her, looking around at the vault and the gold around it. But there was something wrong with his eyes. As if...

As if they were _mad_.

“When I was just a kitten, my brother told me legends about hidden San Lorenzo. About its treasures...” he looked back at her. He smiled fondly, but the madness in his eyes cancelled out any positive emotions that this charming smile might convey. “I have heard that _all_ these treasures were gathered from a thousand castles of Sino’s defeated enemies. What was a thousand castles in the mind of a kitten, who could not even count to twenty? I imagined mountains of gold that were impossible to climb...” he spoke as he slowly approached her. The sound of his heels on the marble floor rang loudly like a bell in the omnipresent silence. He walked over to one of the stacks of gold coins and gems and picked up one crystal. “And now when I look at it... I am disappointed.” he threw away the crystal, and the sound of coins banging against each other rang in Dulcinea's ears like the worst of torture.

“I saw thieves burning the town.” Dulcinea turned to face herself from the future who took a few steps to the unshakable Puss. She was angry. No, _angry_ is not the right word. She was _furious_ and _embittered_ at the same time. “They said it was on _your_ orders.”

Puss looked up at her with his blank green eyes, folding his hands behind his back.

“It was necessary.”

Dulcinea sighed loudly and was frightened for a moment before remembering that they couldn't hear her. It couldn't be true. She tried to explain to herself his strange choice of words, but no matter how she looked at them, Puss had just confessed to burning San Lorenzo. And he didn't even hesitate. He was indifferent and cold as he spoke the words that hit her heart so painfully, and his eyes gave her that stony look.

“ _Necessary?_ ” Dulcinea repeated, tears of anger pooling in her eyes. “Have you been down there? _Children_ …” her voice broke a little. “Little children _killed_ by those filthy degenerates!”

She screamed. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she didn't care. She looked at him, at the former _hero_ , as if she didn't know him at all. And she had such an impression.

The second Dulcinea felt once again that she could vomit or pass out from stress. Her mouth was dry, and her heart was pounding against her chest like a hammer.

“ _What?_ ” she asked hollowly, turning towards the mage and looking at his tired face, smeared by the tears in her eyes. He stared stubbornly ahead, ignoring her despair. “Sino, what are they talking about? They can’t be serious, Sino? Sino!”

“I did what I had to do.” Puss suddenly spoke out as if he had to explain something that didn't matter at all. “Their... _purity_ ,” he spat the word out as if he was disgusted by it. “was a weapon against me. Did you really think I would get beaten so easily?”

“ _Puss..._ ” she sighed in disbelief, but neither he nor her future figure heard her. Dulcinea started screaming again.

“They did nothing to you! They were _innocent!_ ”

“There are no innocents in this world.”

Her arms dropped. She couldn't yell anymore. Feeling a lump in her throat, she walked over to Puss on shaky legs and folded her hands as if in prayer.

“Put an end to this… _madness_. _Please_...” she whimpered.

Puss looked genuinely surprised at her request.

“I cannot.” he stuttered.

“You can.” Dulcinea whispered, nodding her head before he could say anything else. She cupped his face in her hands. “You can, Puss. You _can_ forgive all of them. Make them _see_. Make them _understand_.” she fell to her knees before him, grasping his cloak. And crying. “ _Please,_ Puss _..._ ” she choked out.

Puss watched unimpressed as she nestled her head at his stomach, sobbing softly, repeating his name over and over _and_ _over_ _again_. He raised his hand and Dulcinea, who was watching everything from the side the whole time, held her breath. And she was terrified by her own reaction. She couldn't believe that she was afraid Puss would hit her. _How_ did it all came to _this_ …?

He, however, only gently stroked her future version on the head. When she looked up at him with teary eyes, he gently grabbed her chin and whispered.

“How could I forgive betrayal?”

When she started crying again, he too knelt down and hugged her to him. She hid her head between his neck and shoulder, still weeping softly as he quietly silenced her and stroked her head and back. When, after a few prolonged minutes, she finally stopped sobbing, but still didn't move away from his protective arms, he tilted his head so that his mouth was just next to her left ear.

“The world _I_ want, can not be build by the men, loyal to the world we have _now_ -”

She pulled away from him sharply.

“The world _you want_ is a world of mercy and _has to be_ , Puss, don’t you see it?” she asked desperately, taking sharp, quick breaths between the words.

He smiled in that tender-crazy way again. His eyes sparkled with insanity as he grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her up, making them both stand, alone in the middle of a fortified vault, ignoring the world burning and crumbling around them.

“And it _will_ be!” he said happily. He took her hand and pressed it to his heart. “It is not easy to... _see_ something that has never been before. The good world.”

Dulcinea looked him in the eye resignedly. She tried to find her Puss, her lover, her _friend_ in them, the hero she admired, but it was too late. She saw it now.

“How would you know?” she spoke quietly. “How’d you know it will be good?”

Puss smiled at her as if she were a child, unable to comprehend something very simple he was trying to explain to her.

“Because _I_ know what is good.” he moved closer to her face, putting his forehead to hers and whispered. “And so do _you_.”

She let out a shuddering breath and turned her face away. His touch burned her, his gaze drilling a hole in her demolished soul. She jerked slightly, trying to free herself from his treacherous grip, but he held her tightly in place.

“No, I don’t-”

“You do!” he said with sickly enthusiasm, touching her chin and turning it to his side. “You have always known!”

She looked into his eyes again.

One last time she wanted to find something that would give her hope, that she could get him back. Some eyelid movement, some smile, a word, _anything_.

“What about everyone else?” she asked suddenly, taking him aback by this question. “What about other people, who think _they_ know what is good?”

He stroked her cheek with his hand. He looked in her eyes tenderly and…

“They do not get to choose.”

Her Puss _died_.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him, looking at her like if he was in love.

But he wasn't. He couldn't be. He didn’t know what that word meant.

“Be with me.” he asked. “Built the _new world_ with me. It is our reason. It has been since the beginnig. Since you were a naive girl looking for the silk, and I was a little boy, who could not count to twenty. We do it _together_ , Dulcinea. We change the world _together_. You will be my _queen_.”

She looked at him in horror.

“Puss...” she shook her head, looking at him with tears in her eyes. “You _died_ in there. You died that day I didn’t stop you from _..._ ”

She did not finish.

He smiled wide.

He grabbed the back of her head and kissed her hard. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and groaned softly. Tears trickled down the corners of her eyes as he devoured her lips in an aggressive kiss that lacked the slightest bit of tenderness or passion.

“ _Puss, please, stop…!”_ , she wanted to scream, but only grunted in pain.

A sharp sound shot through the air, and her short groan echoed through the vault. Puss moved away from her only after seconds, his teeth and mouth smeared with blood.

 _Her_ blood.

Dulcinea looked down. The hilt of the dagger Puss had just stuck into her body protruded below her ribs.

She fell. Her hands touched the wound involuntarily. She felt so terribly cold all over her body and at the same time the blade of his dagger burned her like living fire. Trembling and chattering her teeth, trying hard to catch her breath, she looked up at Puss when she saw his boots, dirty with mud, dust and blood, right next to her face. He was wiping his mouth with a white handkerchief that he tossed next to her face. They looked each other in the eye for a moment.

Suddenly he knelt beside her and gently stroked her head. She tried to pull away from his hand, but she had no strength left in her body whatsoever.

“ _Shh_...” he silenced her when she groaned. “I did.” he admitted. “And _you_ will die here. In the treasurehouse you so bravely defended, right in the middle of the town you love so much...” Dulcinea screamed in a choked voice as he dug his claws into her skull. “San Lorenzo will disappear. _You_ will disappear. Everything you ever loved will disappear. Now you finally know what it is like to lose everything.”

Dulcinea wanted to run up to them, shake his shoulders, hear that it was just a stupid joke, that she had misunderstood everything, but she couldn't lift her feet from the ground. She was breathing sharply as she watched her so-called protector abuse her head, which was streaked with blood as he dug his claws into her skin.

She heard her own whimper and Puss pouted mockingly, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her temple.

“I know it hurts, my dear...” he whispered and his voice seemed… different. “But I am just fulfilling my destiny. I was born to change the world for the better...”

From outside, they heard chilling shouts and pleas for mercy. Dulcinea, nearly passed out from the pain, looked at his smug face. The same face that she once loved and now hated with all her heart.

“And I will do it no matter the cost.” he finished, releasing her head violently, making it hit the marble floor with force. He got up and headed for the exit as she lay limp in a pool of her own blood.

He stopped at the threshold of the vault and took a deep breath, drawing the smell of smoke and ash into his lungs. His figure was surrounded by a hellish fire, consuming the foundations of the town, once so dear to his heart. He closed his eyes and for a moment savoring the noise, pleas for help, screams, shouts, a desperate cry to all gods humanity knew.

He opened his green eyes, his pupils narrowed into thin lines. He enjoyed the sight in front of him. The sight of his army destroying this city, destroying this old, broken-down world to make room for something completely new.

His world.

His _empire_.

He looked over his shoulder.

“Really, it is a shame you did not want to take the opportunity I gave you.” he turned a little and smirked madly. “But not to worry. In the perfect world that I am creating, there will be no place for people like you to plot behind my back. No one will _ever_ betray me again. And no one will stop me. I want you to die knowing this. Sweet dreams, my _love_.”

His low, demonic chuckle echoed in the vast space around.

The image of the vault and her lifeless body vanished from her sight. It was white again all around, and its brightness combined with the emotions she felt at that moment made her stumble slightly and fell to the ground.

Sino quickly walked over to her and knelt down beside her, but when he reached out his arms, she slipped away violently.

“ _What_...” she gasped, trying to contain her tears. “ _Was_ … _That?_ ”

The mage sighed, looking down.

“The first time I saw it, I reacted similarly.” he muttered, and the tulpa looked up at him, her eyes red and glazed with tears. “I watched this scene a thousand times, each time generating a different sequence of events. And it all ended the same each time. Puss in Boots always became what he never wanted to become. This is the beginning of-”

“ _Evil Puss_...” she finished, her voice choked with disbelief. She looked at her creator's face as if seeking to deny her worst fears there, but he only nodded sadly.

“Evil Puss.” he said emphatically, and Dulcinea felt the contents of her stomach rise to her throat. “You've met him already. He wasn't lying when he said he was the emperor of his world. He managed to achieve it. But he did it with fire and blood, not with compassion and mercy. He destroyed this world in order to build his new, perfect empire on its ruins. He killed everyone...” He looked at her sadly as she instinctively put her hand to her chest, in the place where she had just seen the stabbed blade of the dagger. She could have sworn she could almost _feel_ it. “ _E_ _veryone_ who opposed him.”

Dulcinea whimpered. She swallowed hard and looked at him with hope in her eyes.

“But-” she stuttered. “But you said it was just a vision of the future, right? It hasn't happened yet, we can change it!”

The man tiredly hid his face in his hands. Dulcinea crawled a little closer to him.

“It has already begun.”

His words hit Dulcinea like a hammer. She opened her mouth in horror. The mage continued, ignoring her reaction.

“Puss wants to get the money to go back to San Ricardo. And when he does, he’ll want to create a new world for himself. A good world, in his opinion.”

Dulcinea pressed her hands to her forehead, her eyes widening in panic.

“ _No_...” she whispered in horror. “It can’t be… No…!”

“Dulcinea,” her attention was caught by Sino’s stern words. He placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her slightly, looking her seriously in the eyes. “Your job as a tulpa is not over yet. You have to make sure that this scenario does not come true.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” she asked, unfolding her arms hopelessly.

What could she do? How was she going to stop Puss from becoming an evil emperor? What power did she have to do anything?

“Puss in Boots _must_ return to San Lorenzo.” he said firmly, his voice echoing in the infinite white around them. His figure seemed blurred. “Only in this place will he forget his lust for blood and power. You can't let him get his way. You and my good half must do whatever it takes to restore his memories…!”

The world around her began to tear like a blank sheet of paper. She looked around in panic.

“Don’t let him...” his voice faded in a hurricane created by a black cloud that seemed to swallow all of Valenya. “He can’t… You must… Remember…!”

Sino disappeared despite the fact that she still had so many questions and did not even have time to collect her thoughts when she began to fall screaming down the endless black chasm, that swallowed her, wheezing horribly, making her unable to even hear her own scream for help...

She woke up.

She screamed sharply, taking a deep breath, as if she had just emerged from the water. She rose sharply to a seat, waving her arms in panic. Someone hugged her shoulders and for the first few seconds she couldn't register who did it or where she was. She let out something like a terrified screech and tried violently to free herself from the tight grip.

“Wow, wow, lassie, calm _down!_ ”

She abruptly stopped swinging her claws and looked up, breathing shaky and weak. Pajuna looked at her with concern. Dulcinea swallowed hard, continued panting loudly, and began to look around. She was in the cantina, lying on something like an old couch that she had never seen before. Artephius, señora Zapata, the mayor and... the Duchess?

“ _Wha_...” she groaned weakly, putting her hand to her forehead, as she felt her head spin. “Why am I… Where...”

“You passed out.” Pajuna told her, giving her a glass of milk. Dulcinea nodded at her gratefully, taking a tiny sip of her drink. “Zapata found you on the floor in your room and brought you here.”

Her eyes fell on the caretaker of the orphanage, who got up from her chair and walked over to the couch, sitting next to Dulcinea's legs.

“What happened, niñita?” she asked worriedly.

“I...” Dulcinea stuttered. She looked uncertainly at the faces of her friends and hesitated. The images of the vision Sino showed her flashed before her eyes, causing a shiver of fear to run down her spine. She turned her head away. “I… I’m not sure.” she finally responded. “I think I was just... tired.”

Zapata frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but Dulcinea preceded her.

“Duchess? What are you doing here?” she asked and the woman smiled lightly at her. “I thought only the townspeople had kept their memories of...”

“Actually not really, Dulcie!” Artephius spoke suddenly, raising his index finger. “Not all _inhabitants_ , but all those _present_ in the town, have retained their memories.”

“Wait...” Pajuna raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “What?”

“Yeah!” the alchemist confirmed and scratched his head, looking a little confused. “I didn't tell you about it?”

“NO!” they all shouted at once.

He curled his shoulders for a moment, frightened by their sudden outburst, but a second later he shrugged and looked at the visibly irritated Duchess.

“Oh, well.” he said and suddenly gasped in surprise, catching his own wrist. “Whose hand is that?!”

Dulcinea closed her eyes and sighed heavily while the others were busy groaning.

_It has already begun._


	7. The deal

He ran away again.

Abecia was a rather quiet town far to the west. It seemed to be the perfect place to stay after a few weeks of travelling through the desert. He had sneaked into the city with no little difficulty, given that there were guards at the gates all the time. He frowned when he saw a wanted poster with his image at the entrance to the town.

_“Puss in Boots. Wanted dead or alive. Reward: five hundred reales.”_

He snorted indignantly. He was worth definitely more than _that_.

He really tried hard not to draw attention to himself. He moved silently over rooftops and empty streets. His mentor, with whom he had long time ago parted ways – the great El Guante Blanco – had taught him a lot and Puss was able to deal with many enemies at once, but he was _tired_. He had to find a place to rest and consider where he was going to go next.

Because he had no idea.

It's been almost six years since he was banished from San Ricardo and he really didn't know what to do with himself anymore. East of him was his hometown, and therefore it was a direction he had never wanted to go. In the south, he had made enemies among the terrible bandits that even the most respected soldiers of the Spanish army feared. In the north, on the other hand, he could come across serial killers and criminal catchers known throughout the land. Puss had heard tales of a fearless boar and her companion that had never failed a single case. They said that whoever they were tasked with killing – mysteriously disappeared under unexplained circumstances. And if he went farther west, he would soon be faced with a port, and his only option would be to join a crew of some sort, except that the pirates (even if Puss admired them for their desire for adventure and fighting skill) were no better than contract killers, and on top of that was his fear of the ocean. He might have escaped to France or Africa, but such a trip would involve crossing the whole country.

What was he supposed to _do?_

He was thinking about it as he sat in a dark corner of some filthy tavern, sipping slightly at his glass of leche. He pulled his hat over his eyes and leaned against the back of his chair, hiding in the shadow, listening to the conversation of two men sitting at the table closest to him.

“Some say that Puss in Boots is in town.” said one of them in a semitone.

“Are you crazy?” his companion with a huge number of tattoos on his hands replied, leaning towards him. “Samuel himself told me yesterday that he is said to be in Barcelona!”

“Well, wherever he is, I hope it's not here.” the man with a crooked mustache replied, taking a sip from his bottle of beer. He leaned over the table and added in a whisper. “I heard he steals the breath of sleeping babies!”

The other man shuddered and Puss smirked lightly to himself.

“The very thought makes me shiver!” he murmured and hesitantly looked around the inn. “Samuel said he once saw him fight. He called him _‘Behemoth legacy’._ He saw him go into fire and crawl out of it without any harm!”

“You shouldn't believe everything your friend Samuel tells you...” They heard a creepy, hoarse cackle from the other end of the room.

The two men turned to the voice, and Puss raised his head a little to look at the man he had not noticed so far. He was very thin and tall, in a black hat and a red coat with a collar so high that it covered his entire face. In the fingers of one hand he was turning a black, ornate dagger, and in the other he was holding the cigarette he had just lit. He blew smoke and took a wheezing breath through clenched teeth, flicking ash onto the dirty, sticky tavern floor.

“Why?” asked the tattooed man, taking a sip from his drink and peering curiously at the strange newcomer. “What do _you_ know about the Chupacabra?”

The man took his time to answer.

He took a drag on his cigarette, drank from his glass of whiskey, and leaned back in his chair, placing his heavy, muddy shoes on the table in front of him. Puss was watching him closely the whole time. He _knew_ Puss was there, he didn't have to hide anymore, but still, he didn't move from his seat. He was patiently tapping his claws on the hilt of his sword, ready to attack at any moment.

The mysterious man sighed, crossing his arms behind his head.

“He's not a demon or a ghost. Yes, he's dangerous,” he said. “but he doesn't have any of your stupid magical powers.” he looked at the two gentlemen with undisguised disgust at their mystical stories. “Ones like him don't need them. He’s a criminal, an outlaw. Not some absurd fairytale character.”

Puss frowned, gripping his sword tighter. Usually he liked to hear when people talked about him. He was amused by all sorts of legends made up, this fear and admiration on their faces when they even heard his name. But that guy didn't tell legends or fairy tales. He recognized him as something, that Puss was trying very hard to blur though all the stories and countless expeditions and fights.

He recognized him as a real criminal. A mortal.

Not a god, and not a myth. As something that wasn’t perfect and indestructible.

And that was dangerous.

“The guy has many names.” the man continued after a short moment of silence. “I’ve heard some call him the _‘Red Devil’_. He attacks so fast you don't even notice what happened before he slashes your throat…”

The man with the odd mustache swallowed loudly, his lower lip shaking slightly.

The stanger didn't stop there.

“When someone sends a murderer after him...” He looked up at the pale face of _Mustache_ and his companion, who pretended to be imperturbable, nervously looking around the dark tavern. “He sends back his _head._ With claw marks on his eyes.”

The poor old Mustache groaned helplessly, clearly disturbed and scared by these terrible stories. But the tattoo guy only snorted softly, thus trying to hide his own anxiety.

The man in red sighed lightly, as if he had just finished telling the most ordinary story about what he ate for breakfast.

“You know, gentlemen, some even say he can’t be killed...”

The two men at the table listened intently. But he, even though he was looking in their direction, did not address his words to them.

“Is...” Mustache stuttered. “Is this true? Or-or are they just rumours?”

“How would I know that?” the man replied, shrugging with slight laugh, reaching for another cigarette and putting it in his mouth. “I've never met him personally.” he inhaled again, sighing as if the poisonous smoke in his lungs was giving him relief, and he gazed blurry at the ceiling. “Is it true…?”

“It is.”

The two men turned sharply towards his voice, the scuffling of their chairs breaking the tense silence in the almost empty tavern. The mysterious stranger only smiled under his breath and looked at him from under the hem of his hat.

Puss did not change his position. He sat comfortably in his chair, his hat obscuring his face. A small candle on the table in front of him cast a warm light on his leather boots he put on the table.

“My sword will pierce your heart, and you will not even notice I was there.” he said, looking up very slowly. As his green eyes met the white, frightened faces of the two men – swallowing loudly and hands shaking as if from hard effort – he slowly rose from the back of the chair. “I _am_ the _Red Devil_.” he stood with one foot on the table and pulled his sword from his belt. The candlelight surrounded him like the most terrible conflagration, its fire reflected in the green eyes that followed every, even the smallest movement of their victims. “I kill my enemies without hesitation. I drink their blood and eat their hearts...”

“So this is true?” said the stranger, coughing hard, tossing his cigarette butt on the floor behind him. Puss turned his predatory gaze to him. “That you can't be killed?”

Puss tilted his head to the side, pointing his sword at him.

“Anyone can be killed.” he murmured.

Mustache whimpered, trying to slowly withdraw from the dangerous situation. His companion, in turn, had other plans. He quickly pulled a large knife from his belt and screamed, coming at Puss, who only raised his brow slightly as he watched the man approach at a frantic pace.

Moving fast like lightning, he pulled a small dagger from the back of his belt and, without thinking a second, threw it at the attacker. The blade hit the center of his left eye. The man dropped his knife and fell to the floor after one final agonizing scream. Within seconds a dark, sticky slop of deep maroon blood began to form next to his head, the metallic smell of which spread throughout the room.

Puss ignored the terrified scream of the other man, as he watched the body still shake on the floor with the posthumous convulsions. He looked up at the man in the red, who was looking at him, as if no act of murder had just happened.

Puss gave them a contemptuous look, throwing one gold coin on his table and jumped to the floor, heading for the exit.

The moon was already shining in the sky, and all around the cheerful shouts of the inhabitants, dancing and having fun on the night fiesta could be heard. None of them had any idea that a man whose name only few knew had just died in one of the taverns. They had no idea that one of Spain's most dangerous criminals was slipping past them. Puss sometimes wanted to immerse himself in this sweet ignorance with them and simply forget for a moment who he was, where he came from and where he was going. But he couldn't. The fact that he would never find peace again in his life awakened in his heart the very devil they had talked about earlier. A beast who did not agree to such a fate, to such a world, and who desperately tried to free himself from the cage into which he was brutally thrown by his stupid loyalty and naivety.

Fur rose on his back when fireworks fired near him. He heard footsteps and loud conversations on all sides. He had to find some safe place. Without thinking, he climbed to the roof of the nearest building and sneaked along it, ignoring the hisses and calls of the roof cats on the way. He hid behind a chimney and took a deep breath, putting his hand to his chest. His heart was racing and he didn't know what to do to calm it down. To calm himself down.

He did not know how much time he had spent on that roof, waiting, without even thinking, only listening to the buzz and laughter of the people, remembering the parties in San Ricardo, the ones his foster brother never liked to go to. He said they were too loud and too chaotic. And Puss loved this ubiquitous joy, singing and dancing. Colourful decorations all around, delicious snacks and partying until dawn.

He would have given anything to be part of it again. He couldn't remember the last time he was dancing. He didn't remember the last time he truly laughed.

He _wanted_ to be a _hero_ again.

“ _You just killed a man! What kind of hero are you?”_ he heard a voice in his head, but it sounded strange, sounded like... not him.

“ _I was defending myself. It was he who attacked me.”_ he replied to himself in his mind, trying not to think about the fact that he might have some sort of mental illness.

“ _You could have just take his knife from him, but you chose violence.”_

“ _I did not have time for that…”_

“ _You enjoyed killing him.”_

“ _No! No, I-”_

“ _Murderer.”_

“ _No...”_

“ _Degenerate.”_

“ _Stop!”_

“ _YOU_ _ARE_ _A MONSTER!”_

“I AM NOT!” he shouted suddenly, his loud cry drowned out by successive fireworks.

He fell back against the chimney, breathing heavily, staring ahead in horror. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He felt sweat on his paws, his loud panting making his own spine shiver.

_What was that?_

He couldn’t remember being that scared ever in his life.

Where did the thought even _come_ from? He never... But he... _He never..._

Something was wrong with him. He had never experienced anything like this before in his life. As if there was some... parasite in his head, whispering these disgusting things to him.

...But what if it was right? Was he really a monster? He wanted to do so much good, he wanted to help people. But then again, this... _something_ was telling the truth. He killed a man. A man in whose eyes _he_ was a threat. A man who also thought he was _just defending himself._

But what would have happened if he had _not_ thrown that dagger? Was he supposed to have his throat cut? And who would then make all his dreams come true? Who would complete his destiny? There were no more men like him in this cruel, rotten world. Everyone cared only for their own profit, and Puss wanted more. If he died, he could not help those who need it.

So what was the life of one drunk who never got anywhere in life compared to all the poor, innocent souls he was going to save? For one life – a thousand lives saved from decay and suffering. One death for a hundred lives – that's a simple calculation!

“ _Yes.”_ he thought to himself. _“Yes, it was nothing. I will redeem myself. Yes. Yes, I will.”_

Besides, was the man he killed really innocent? He did not look like an exemplary citizen, anyone would agree. What if he also killed someone? If he was planning to murder someone? After all, he had a knife with him. In that case, Puss would save someone's life. So when you consider this possibility, hasn't Puss just done something incredibly heroic? Something worthy of praise?

“ _I did not kill a man._ _”_

It was impossible to avoid casualties. Not in this case, even if he really wanted to. It was a price that had to be paid for the greater good. The price he had to pay himself.

“ _I saved a life.”_

He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him, already calm because he acquitted himself to his own conscience, trying to imagine that he was home again. He lost himself in this dream, losing his vigilance for a moment and lowering his guard.

That was a mistake.

Because when he opened them again he saw none other than the man from the inn.

He wore a black scarf that covered half of his face, but Puss attention was more drawn to the axe blade he held above his head. At the very last moment he managed to jump aside. The man hit the chimney Puss had been leaning against a second earlier. The stone crashed all around as he jerked his weapon out of it. Puss immediately got to his feet and, performing a somersault in the air, jumped back, drawing his sword.

“Who are you?” he hissed, taking the first position his maestro had taught him.

The man didn’t respond and attacked again.

The sound of the blades clashing against each other was drowned out by the outburst of fireworks, the screams and laughter of people who were not at all aware that a fight to the death was taking place just above their heads.

Puss moved quickly and agile, avoiding the successive strokes of the axe, which the masked man was waving around without any order or composition. Their fighting styles couldn't have been more different. Puss was an excellent swordsman. On the battlefield, he was characterized by grace and precision in making every move. His opponent, on the other hand, relied mainly on his physical strength, which was far superior to that of a cat weighing about fourteen pounds.

“ _Remember Ginger, first, you must learn to use the weapons you were born with. You are small. Good. It's harder to hit a small target. You are not that strong. Good. Use their strengh, as their weakness.”_

Puss let the man hit right in front of him. He quickly climbed the hilt of his axe and aimed a kick at the opponent's nose. The force of the blow knocked him to the very edge of the roof. Puss lunged towards him, and when he put the sword to his throat, the man did exactly the same, pulling a small knife out of his pocket.

So they found themselves in this position. The man was on his back with his head out of the roof, and Puss standing on his chest. They both pressed their blades against each other's throats, but neither of them dared to move and deliver the final blow. They stared into each other's eyes, breathing hard.

The guy in red suddenly smiled.

“You’re not that easy to find, you know?” he chuckled breathlessly and Puss furrowed his brow. “And when I finally find you, it turns out you’re bloody hard to kill as well!”

Puss grunted.

“Or maybe you are just bloody weak at killing. By swinging your axe like this, you would not even chop a tree.” he hissed, but refrained from another harsh comment as he felt the knife edge more clearly against his neck.

“Careful now, Kitty in Shoes,” the man clicked his tongue. “or my knife might accidentally _slip_.”

Puss gritted his teeth hard and gripped his sword hilt tighter.

“So what now?” he hissed. “If you cut my throat, I will have a second to do the same to you. This is enough time for me.”

“Only one of two things will happen.” the man replied, completely unfazed and not at all worried about the prospect of death. “Either we kill each other now in which case all out troubles come to an end or… we won’t.”

Puss snorted.

“Right. Or we will not. And what then?”

“Then,” he said, as if explaining something to a child. “we can help each other. I know the story about you and the egg that got you-”

Puss himself wasn't sure why his words infuriated him so much, but in a split second he managed to move away. With a swift movement he knocked the weapon out of his hand, and when the Red One (as Puss started calling him) tried to get up, he pinned him back to the roof, stepping with his heel on his head and putting his own knife to his throat.

“How do you know about him, huh?” he asked, so furious he almost foamed his mouth.

While the history of his exile was known in the country, no one except him and his former accomplice knew what _really_ happened.

Red smiled awkwardly, tilting his head slightly to be able to look at Puss.

“About your traitor brother?”

Puss growled, pressing the blade tighter against his neck, making him groan softly, but he kept smiling broadly.

“He is _not_ my brother you understand? Not anymore.”

He couldn't think of this hideous traitor who had ruined his life without feeling the excruciating rage and living fire in his chest. He swore to himself that if he only met him again…

“Yeah, alright, I get it, you’re angry, I won’t call him you brother again, okay?” the man said in one breath, putting his hands flat next to him, slowly trying to get up.

Puss, however, did not allow him to do so, pressing his head tighter to the roof with his boot.

“Do not even try.” he said warningly. “Or my knife might accidentally _slip_.”

Red laughed dryly, but made no sudden movement to break free. His calmness was slowly getting on Puss' nerves.

“I will ask you again.” he sighed, trying to pretend to be as relaxed as the man lying underneath him. “Who are you and _how,_ ” he stressed. “do you know, about Dumpty?”

“Name’s Zyrian, but you can call me Warlock.” he introduced himself in a slightly choked voice. “And I know many things.” he turned his head to the side and now Puss had a perfect view of his profile and his horrible, loathsome smile. “I spent a lot of time trying to find out everything about you. You were abandoned while still a kitten and taken in by the caretaker of the orphanage from San Ricardo, who raised you as her own son. She gave you those boots.” he cast a meaningful glance at the footwear. “You have been hailed as a hero, but because of your brother's betrayal you were banished from the town. Since then, you've been travelling the world as a criminal and an exile.”

Puss snorted mockingly.

“Yes, and you amassed this... _impressive,_ “ he scoffed. “amount of information to make it easier for you to kill me?"

“Oh, I didn’t want to kill you, I only wanted to catch you so that I could safely talk. I can-” he began, but the words caught in his throat, as the knife's edge was pressed closer to his neck. He swallowed loudly and continued in a slightly choked voice. “I _can_ _,_ " he gasped. "offer you a deal. Believe me, it will surely satisfy you.”

Puss smiled ominously and moved closer to his ear.

“Do you know what would satisfy me at this very moment?” he asked in a whisper. The man looked at his sweet smirk slightly nervous. “Your blood on my boots.”

He made a quick move with his hand, but before he could even cut the skin, the man jerked and began to call out, panting.

“Wait! Wait, no, stop! Listen! Just-just _listen_ to me!” he rasped out in panic. “Wait! If you kill me, you'll never know where Dumpty is!”

At these words, Puss immediately withdrew his hand.

He got off his back and tucked the knife into his belt. He stared in disbelief at the man who, crawling awkwardly and putting his hand to his throat, tried to catch his breath.

“ _What?_ ” Puss asked in shock.

Warlock looked up at him with teary eyes. The disgusting smile once again entered his face, and his bone-white teeth gleamed dangerously in the darkness surrounding them, occasionally lit only by fireworks.

“Oh yeah, I know.” he laughed softly, even slightly psychopathically. Only now did Puss notice how long he was able not to blink. “I told you I found out a lot about you. I know what you want.”

Puss frowned. The roles have turned. This time it was _him_ who felt trapped like a mouse. Black eyes stared at him dangerously.

“You promised yourself to kill him whenever you had the chance.” The exile sighed in surprise as that sentence dropped Warlock's chapped lips.

Puss took a few steps back, staring at the man with undisguised terror. _Whence? How?_

He continued, smirking at him evilly.

“You know, I’ve always found revenge to be the purest of motivations.” he said, dusting himself off. “And I know motivation isn’t something you lack, right?”

Puss did not answer. Zyrian didn't mind that at all. He sighed and sat more comfortably on the roof.

“Let’s start this over, shall we?” he said with fake politeness. He brushed dust off his coat one last time, straightened his black hat and sighed theatrically, like an actor preparing to recite a very important line. His teeth flickered again in a broad smile. “I've got a proposition for you.”

“ _Proposition...?_ ” Puss repeated deafly, still stunned by what he heard.

“Yes, exactly!” his tone was far too cheerful. Puss noticed that his mood literally could change in a matter of seconds. This man was undoubtedly insane, and if not insane, he was certainly mentally unstable. “I will help you get the money to pay off your debt and take revenge on the egg. In return, I want half the loot we get.”

Puss shook his head violently and looked Warlock in the eye with his suddenly restored customary courage and determination.

“And why should I trust you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and raising one eyebrow. He glared at him from head to toe. “I have no idea who you are or why do you want to help me.”

Warlock raised his head, his eyes opened wide in surprise.

“ _Why?_ ” he repeated and Puss nodded. Warlock huffed with a slight laugh. “Because I like being on the winners side.”

Puss cocked his head to the side. He hadn't felt so confused in a long time.

“I beg you pardon?”

Warlock sighed loudly, resting his elbows on his knees and resting his forehead on his hand.

“I understand your concerns,” he admitted. “I even respect them! Those who trust without fear are idiots.” he stated, waving his hand strangely. “And...” he took another wheezing breath. “I'm not trying to mock you right now, or to lull you into vigilance. But I noticed something about you that no one else in the world has. _Incredible persistence_.”

Puss didn't say a word, only stared at him suspiciously. Warlock took this as consent to continue.

“I mean,” he shrugged. “you’ve been on the run for how long exactly? Seven years now? I've seen so many people like me try to kill you, I stopped counting long ago. You have been betrayed and defiled. But here you are. _Alive_. I find it unbelievable. Anyone else in your position would have gone crazy or shot themselves in the head a long time ago, but you… You didn’t. How? What kept you standing through all those years in exile?”

There was silence. The wind whistled over their heads. The laughter of the Abecia inhabitants was as loud as before, but Puss felt as if it had suddenly disappeared somewhere.

“Faith.” he said suddenly. Warlock widened his eyes a little in surprise, but didn't interrupt him. Puss peered at him from under the hem of his hat, his eyes almost glowing with fire. “But not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In _myself_. Faith in Puss in Boots. Because I _believe_ in something greater. Because I was _born_ to do great things. And I _will_.”

The man smirked at first and snorted, but then nodded at him appreciatively.

“Ah,” he smiled. “the people were right after all, when they told me there was a lion's soul in a tiny cat's body.”

Puss rolled his eyes, even though his ego had been pleasantly tickled by the news that people had really started calling him a _lion_.

The man's voice snapped him out of his complacency.

“So what are the _great things_ you want to achieve?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Puss raised one eyebrow, giving him a cynical look.

“You could not find _that_ out about me?” his tone was mocking and slightly malicious.

Warlock shrugged again.

“I could learn things from people and predict your decisions by deduction, but I can't get into your head, can I?”

Puss wasn't quite sure what he should say to him or whether he should tell him _anything_ , but there was something about that man that whispered to him that he should talk to him, even in spite of his disgusting looks and truly repulsive disposition.

“I want to bring justice to the world.” he said finally. “To free it from the evil. To change it so no one will have to suffer like I did.”

Black eyes looked at him with something similar to pity.

“The world wasn’t created equal.”

“Of course it was.” Puss scoffed. “But then some decided they were better. I will answer injustice with justice, and if there is none, I will make it.”

“A good, new world...” Warlock said quietly. He cocked his head, clearly doubting what he was saying. “You have great ambitions, I have to give you that. But do you _really_ believe in it? Don't you think you’re taking on the impossible?”

Puss snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to be impassive. Trying not to show that the man's words and strange behavior had any influence on him.

“I am a talking cat that wears boots, wanted all over the country.” he said, looking him straight in the eye. “Do not tell me what is possible and what is not.” he growled.

“But what if you fail? Because, as far as I know, you haven't done anything to get any closer to paying your debt...”

Puss sighed indignantly.

“How dare-”

“You’ve been running all your life.” the man cut him off, as if he hadn't heard him at all. “Terrible things happen to you and you _run_. You sit alone on some crumbling roof, mourning your fate. You’ve been a bystander to tragedy from the day they exiled you. Stop being a bystander… Stop running without purpose. Run where you need to run. You loved your town. You valued your honour. Maybe it’s time to avenge them?”

The devil began to struggle in his chest again, tearing his insides apart, trying to get out and shake the hand of his new partner. But did common sense agree with it? He had a feeling something bad would come out of this arrangement. What if it has already happened? And what could Puss do to prevent it? Could anyone forbid the desire to pursue dreams and pursue one's own goals, especially if they were as wonderful as his own? Who had the right to prohibit him? And what could anyone promise him in return to obtain such a right? Would anyone promise to devote their life, their entire future, to serve the world?

Puss has heard about it more than once. He has heard people say they want a change but were not doing anything to make those changes. Puss has always believed that he was better than them because he took matters into his own hands, because he really _made_ a difference. And now Warlock told him that no, he hadn't really done _anything_ yet, that he had done _nothing_. And he was _right_.

Yet now something must be done.

Until now, he had only robbed people, robbed those he was supposed to protect. What did he do with their money? Squandered without any plan or thought.

And how would he save them from tyrants, traitors, rapists and murderers? He, the future hero, he, the _savior_ , who would dispose of their fate? How would he protect them if he didn't act now? How long could he wait? Ten years? During these ten years his mother would be blind from shed tears. Would she starve to death? What could happen to his dear mama in ten years?

Fear gripped him more and more, especially after the completely unforeseen murder. He wanted to get away from there as soon as possible. And if he had been able to see and reason more clearly at that moment, if he could be aware of all the difficulties of his situation, all the horror, the _horror_ and the _pointlessness_ , and finally understand how many obstacles and possibly crimes awaited him in order to get away from there and get home, it was very possible that he would drop everything, go, and have placed himself in the hands of the guards right then, not even out of fear for himself, but out of fear and disgust at what he has done and what he would do in the future.

“So what do you say?” Warlock asked, holding out his hand to him. “Partners?”

Was he naive? Was he blinded? Was it possible that this obnoxious voice was whispering something in his head again, and the images of his ideal, good world appeared clearly before his eyes? He didn't remember much of what he was thinking at that moment, but he remembered very clearly what he replied.

“Partners.” Puss said, as he shook Warlock’s hand.

But when the latter tried to take it, Puss’ claws extended, digging them bloody into the pale skin. He smiled sweetly, as the man grunted slightly in pain.

“But I swear this.” he added, his pupils narrowed into thin lines. “If you _ever_ betray me...”

“ _You tricked me!”_

“ _I had to! You left me no choice!”_

“I will cut your throat.”

^^^

“I will _not_ make the world a graveyard.”

The sound of the thrown blade pierced the air, and the dagger stuck right into the tree on which the target had been painted clumsily in white.

“I'm not saying you will.” Warlock replied, lounging on a fallen rotten trunk, watching Puss mistreat the poor trees in the woods where they camped. “But if you want to put an end to the hierarchy that exists around the world, you can't just ask for it nicely.” he chuckled, crossing his hands behind his head. “If you _really_ want to change the world, there is going to be a war...”

“So be it.” Puss said as he walked over to the tree and plucked his three daggers from the bark. He pointed one of them at his accomplice. “But I will not murder innocents to win.”

The man snorted, waving his arms upward.

“Don’t be so naive, kitty-cat.” he chuckled, getting up to sit. “Which war was won without deceit and mass murder?”

Puss rolled his eyes.

“Why are we talking about this again?” he asked, hiding one of the knives at his belt and the other two in secret pockets in his boots.

“ _Because_ ,” Warlock emphasized, crossing his arms over his chest as Puss looked coldly at him over his shoulder. “I am your most trusted advisor.”

Puss raised his eyebrows at the words, as he sat down beside the small fire he had lit earlier. Warlock called himself his _“advisor”_ , but he wasn't sure if the name was really fitting. Regardless, he was the only person that, well, _advised_ him in anything. And Puss knew that alone he would never achieve what he dreamed of. He needed allies, even if he had a hard time admitting it. And if anyone knew anything about alliances and deals, it was Warlock. He needed him.

Even if Puss sometimes wanted to punch him in the face more than listen to what he had to say.

“My profit depends a lot on what you decide, you know that.” he admitted freely and Puss was even a little surprised that the sentence managed to pass so loosely through his mouth. Just another thing that made them different. Puss was proud. Like, very, _very_ proud. Warlock could resort to savagery if he needed to. Puss wouldn’t stoop so low. Warlock would kiss his enemy’s boots if it meant he get to stick a knife in his back later. “Your vision of conquering the world only makes sense if you know how to control it. We will only gain anything from this if we manage to climb high enough to-”

The ginger gato looked at him with disgust.

“I am not here to conquer the world.” he spat out though clenched teeth, because he felt he was explaining it to him for at least the hundredth time. “How many times do I have to repeat for you to finally understand? I do not want to rule. I want to help.”

Warlock laughed mockingly, and Puss narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, because you think that you were always meant to save everybody.” he snorted contemptuously, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. “This task was never meant for _you_.” Puss turned his head, looking stubbornly into the fire. “You should understand by now that being a hero just isn’t your thing. You have already tried to be someone you are not once. And where did it get you?”

“I got,” Puss answered calmly, but one glance into his fierce eyes was enough to understand that inside he was seething with rage. “what I deserved for being _stupid_ and naive.” He tossed a twig into the fire and watched the flame devour it and turn it to ash. “And now I am fixing my mistake. I am-”

“A goddamn criminal, Bootsie.” Warlock cut him off, and that made Puss look at him again. He was still lying nonchalantly on the fallen log, staring at his too long nails. “But alright. Have it your way.”

Puss didn't like spending time with Warlock. He really didn't like it. He got on his nerves and disgusted him with his approach to life and the world. But without him, he would never in his life get enough money to pay off San Ricardo. And if the only way to achieve his goal was to sacrifice some of his common sense, what else was he to do? He would literally pay any price to get what he wanted.

Well, almost.

He leaned his hands on the ground behind him and looked up at the night sky shining through the treetops.

“So what do you suggest I should do?” he sighed, and the man jumped up in his seat and leaned toward him as if he were just waiting for it.

“I see only one way out of this situation.” he jumped a bit clumsily from the stump and crawled over to the fire, sitting right in front of the feline exile. When he met his eyes, he suddenly became very serious. “Buy an army. Pay the mercenaries and go-”

“To slaughter?” Puss finished, pity clearly visible in the green eyes. He chuckled lowly, but there was no hint of cheerfulness in it. “I do not need an army that will fight for my gold. I want an army that will fight for _me_.”

He got up, dusted himself lightly of the dry leaves, and walked towards their horses. He heard a cynical snort behind him, but didn't turn around. Babieca bowed his head and Puss stroked his fringe lightly, listening to Warlock speak to him as if in disbelief.

“Fight for _you_?” he repeated. “No one will fight _for you_. If someone follows you, it is only in the hope of being paid. Money rules this world, not lofty ideas and visions of the world.”

Puss looked at him over his shoulder angrily.

“If I offer them payment for their loyalty, they will order _me_ over.” he said. “Do you know who you have to pay for help? _Traitors_. And the traitors change sides once, twice and over and over again. Traitors are easy to bribe. I cannot risk betrayal in my own ranks.”

“If you don’t want them to even think of betraying you, you need to give them more than gold, here you are right.” Puss turned his head and looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “You have to give them a reason to be afraid of you.”

“Afraid of me...” he repeated with a mocking smile. He turned to the fire, placing one hand on Babieca’s muzzle. “If people obey and fight for someone they fear, they become slaves. If I lead an army of slaves, who will I become?”

“It doesn’t matter who you are when you fight a great war and have a large army behind your back. If you want to establish a new world order, you will have to win it. That will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done.”

“The blood of my enemies, not innocents.”

“And has there ever been a war in which the innocent did not die by the thousands?” he paused for a moment, as if to give him time to reflect on his words. “I've seen things that would scare you. Butchered babies, children, old men, more women raped than you can count. There is a beast in every man and it stirs when you put a sword in his hand.”

As if in reply to these words, Puss felt something in his chest move, something violent and furious, and a scream rang in his ears, although he did not know who it belonged to or how he remembered it.

“But slaves become your property. They don’t rape, they don’t put cities to slaughter unless you order them to do so. The only people they’ll kill are those you want dead.”

Puss turned again. His expression was as neutral and unfazed as possible. Rape, murder, slavery. Everything that Puss wanted to avoid when building his new world. He couldn't build it on these foundations.

“Have you ever heard the legends of the great Sino? The most powerful mage to ever walk on the earth?” he asked, but gave Warlock no chance to answer. “My treacherous brother used to tell me about him when we were kids.”

The man shifted uneasily at the words, but again made no reply. Puss smiled a small, slightly scary and at the same time dreamy smile and scratched his horse under his chin.

“It was my favorite story. He led an army against a terrible evil, the dark demon Barog. The war between light and darkness, heaven and hell. The war of the first men against monsters born of hatred, at the very beginning of time.” he sighed and looked at Warlock over his shoulder. “I heard that Sino won this war. But he did not do it alone. His men died for him, because they believed in him. They believed in the light and the vision of the future world he brought with himself. Because they loved him...” He looked him straight in the eyes with a gaze so stubborn, fiery and unbending that, despite his small stature, he began to resemble a great leader himself. “Not because they were bought or scared.”

“Yes. Sino fought valiantly. Sino fought nobly.” Warlock said after a moment, staring strangely at the fire. “And Sino _died_.”

Puss frowned at the words. Warlock looked up at him and continued as if he hadn't said anything before.

“If the legends are to be believed, Sino fought to free the first people from the bondage of diabolical demons.” He stood up reluctantly and walked over to the tree where Puss had previously trained throwing targets. “They fought him because they saw the danger and martyrdom as the only thing they would get if they didn't. They fought not for him but for themselves. Because they knew they had to save themselves. He noticed they had a common enemy, so he took that as the perfect excuse to gain their trust. It was the easiest way to become a ruler. The only thing he cared about was not their good, but his vision of himself as the king of the world.”

Puss had long stopped believing in fairy tales, but there was still a small part of him from those joyful childhood years that made him always assume that there was a grain of truth in every legend. Sino was his first childhood idol. Not because he was a wizard or because he was powerful. Puss admired him because he changed the world. Because he was the leader people needed.

All his life, he believed that he had created their world, that he was a hero. Was it possible that behind these wonderful titles, fairy tales and dreams of a tiny kitten, there was a selfish, power-hungry manipulator who sacrificed the lives of his innocent subjects, people who trusted him, just to achieve his goal?

“And all rulers are either butchers or meat.” Warlock finished.

“I will be a hero, not a butcher.” Puss cut him off and straightened, flames from the bonfire reflected in his fierce eyes, it seemed to be reacting to his emotions. “I am here to free the world from tyrants, not to take their place.”

Warlock looked at him as if he had just learned something Puss had no idea about. He paused for a moment, then suddenly asked him a question that struck the former hero right in the heart.

“And how do you destroy a tyrant without becoming one?”

He exhaled a shuddering, slightly offended breath, but no words followed it.

It was not the first such conversation between them. Warlock tried many times to convince him that the path of compassion and mercy Puss had followed was wrong. That it couldn't really get him to the top.

Puss growled. Nonsense. Warlock knew nothing of either mercy or compassion. Only thanks to them could Puss build a new world, and how could his world be good if he made his way to it through the bloody heads of the people he was to defend? He was a protector, not a tyrant, and he would never be a tyrant.

“Warlock...” Puss started in a warning tone, his fangs flashing in the dangerous smirk he sent him. “Let us not forget who we are.”

The man opened his mouth to answer, but the ginger gato was not eager to listen to anymore of his clever comments, comparisons and theories.

“ _You_ ,” he growled. “are the advisor. And I appreciate your advice, but if you call me a tyrant again, you will be advising someone else. Is that clear?”

The man looked as if he had a lot of, perhaps not entirely friendly, remarks on his lips, but he choked them down at the anger in Puss' eyes and the hand that was reaching for his sword. Puss was a better fighter than Warlock, even though he made up for the shortcomings in technique with his cleverness. But in a one-on-one fight he had no chance against him. And losing his life at that point would be unfortunate, at least.

Warlock could feel Puss’ expectant gaze at him.

“Of course.” he replied. “Of course it is. You’re in charge. I will adapt to every decision you make.” he bowed humbly.

Puss looked at him coolly and turned his face away, taking his hand from the hilt of his sword.

“Good.” he said and patted Babieca’s neck, urging him to move.

Then he drove away quickly. Hoof whirring continued over the fire for a few more seconds, and only when it died down did Warlock raise his head.

An ominous, terrifying smile, appeared on his face. Black eyes narrowed in this chilling expression.

He chuckled menacingly to himself and in the blink of an eye blended into the darkness of the forest.

The fire was gone.

  
  


^^^

It's not that Artephius didn't remember what happened.

Well, maybe he _didn't_ remember, but he knew that something was wrong, something was out of place, something was _missing_.

He didn't understand it, and it scared him a little, but he tried not to show it in front of his friends. They didn't need to know he was afraid.

And Dulcinea didn’t need to know.

“ _Oh, poor Dulcie...”_ , he thought to himself.

She has been crying a lot for some time. Artephius didn't know why. Or rather, he _knew_ , but he couldn't _remember_.

Still, he tried to cheer her up. He made her a few macrame owls (purple ones – he remembered she liked the colour) and even tried to read her something from her favourite book (although he had slipped half the text and made quite... _interesting_ comments, not to say nonsense).

One day at dinner, she did not cry. And it was a success. Everyone was happy, even señora Zapata was less grumpy than usual.

Until Artephius at one point did not mention Puss.

Because it seemed strange to him, he thought as he scratched his gray temple. Puss liked Dulcinea. Artephius was not very good at reading the feelings of others, but he knew the look he was sending her all the time, for he looked at his Duchess in exactly the same way. It was Puss who should have been comforting her, and the alchemist hadn't seen him in a good few days. So he guessed it was logical that he asked where their hero went and jokingly said he would _“whip his skin”_ when he returned.

But no one laughed at his great joke. And Dulcie started crying again.

On that day, the images of that night flashed before his eyes. Artephius had never been so afraid in his life. These visions lasted only a second and he remembered little of them, but what he managed to notice scared him enough.

He saw Sino and himself, and Puss with terrible eyes, and San Lorenzo in ruins, and a great black cloud over the town, and fire, and blood, and-

He didn't understand much of it, but he was sure of one thing. He understood that Puss was gone. Puss was gone and didn't remember them. He did not remember them and was in great danger.

Yes, he forgot many things, but that was impossible to forget. He didn't know exactly how it happened, but _he_ sent Puss back to where he was before coming to San Lorenzo. Although not. He didn't, no. He didn't believe that he would be able to do such a thing, not only because he didn't want to, but also because he didn't have the power to manipulate time. It was more like watching another person do it, except that Artephius stood very close, he might even be tempted to say that he was in _one body_ with that person.

It made him anxious.

Puss was his friend. He always treated him with respect and did not laugh at him as almost the only person he met. Don't get him wrong, Artephius loved to make people laugh and he didn't care whether they laughed _with_ him or _at_ him. But Puss was different. Despite initial hesitation at the beginning of their relationship, he openly stated over time that he believed in him and his alchemy. He said it often, without even realizing what those words meant to Artephius.

Someone _believed_ in him.

He did not consider him a madman, missing a fifth stave, and not worth listening to.

Puss always took his opinion into account, even if it seemed extremely crazy. But maybe he didn't reject his crazy ideas like the others, because Puss was a little crazy too. When every plan failed, he cast spells madly, ventured into the unknown, ran into the middle of a sword fight in the hope that he would win. He knew like no one else that madness was sometimes the only way to stay sane.

Puss understood him, when others failed to do so. Even if he was talking nonsense.

And Artephius thought that... If it was him (though not entirely consciously), who sent Puss away...

He might be able to bring him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some trouble putting this chapter together, but I finally did and I am kinda proud of myself. Hope you like it!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Oh, wow, I finally did it! Posted something about my favourite show. Because, really, this fandom is very very very small I am dying to meet some other people who love Puss as much as me.
> 
> I hope you like how it begins. I was wondering for a long time how would it be if it was Puss who lost his memory, instead of all the San Lorenzan's. I will try to post often but I cannot promise anything. 
> 
> So anyway, bye guys!
> 
> (This is my first fic posted on ao3 and I am still getting used to how everything works. Also English is not my first language, so I hope you'll point out possible mistakes.)


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